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CIHM/ICMH 

Midfofiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microraproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquaa 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  at  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attemptad  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


a 
n 


n 


■^^'^ . 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


r~~l    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  9ndomm«gAe 

Covers  restored  and/or  lamina<ibd/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pelliculie 


I       I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


□    Coloured  maps/  > 

Cartes  giographiques  eri  coulaur 

□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  da  coulaur  (i.e.  'autre  que  bieue  ou  noire) 

I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/Ou  illustrations  en  coulaur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli4  avac  d'autras  documents 


.Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/  * 

La  re  lii!ira  serrie  paut  causer  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
distorsion,!*  long  d«  la  marge  intiriaura 

Blank  leaves  added  during  raatoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  fllrtiihg/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pagaa  blanches  ajouttes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissant  dans  la  taxta. 
mais,  lorsque  cela  itait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  *t«  filmies.  . 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppUmentaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  axemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  iti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-^tre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliograpNque,  qui  peuveot  modifier 
une  image  reproduite;  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thoda  normale  de  filmage^ 
sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 


D 
0 

D 
0 
D 
0 
D 
D 
D 
D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  da  coulaur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^as 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restauries  et/ou  pelliculies 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^color^es,  tachetAes  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/' 
Pages  ditach^e^ 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualiti  inigala  de  ('impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  material  suppl^mantaire 

Only  edition  available/  # 

Seule  Edition  disponi^le 

•  Jt 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  b«en  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Lee  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  peiure. 
etc..  ont  it*  filmies  A  nouveau  de  fapon  i 
obtanir  la  meilleure  im«ge  possible 


Th«  copy  filn 
to  th«  ganorc 


Tha  Imagos  i 
poaaibia  com 
of  tha  origin! 
filming  contr 


Original  copii 
boginning  wi 
th«  last  pago 
•ion,  or  tha  t 
othor  orijjina 
first  pago  wii 
•ion,  and  am 
or  illustratad 


Tho  last  rocQ 
sholi  contain 
TINUED"),  oi 
whicliavar  ai 

IMapa,  piatas 
diffarant  radi 
antiraiy  inclu 
beginning  in 
right  and  to|] 
raquirad.  TtM 
mathod: 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the'  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  da  riduction  indiqu*  ci-dasaous. 


% 


10X 

UX 

1IX 

22X 

2ex 

30X 

/ 

• 

; 

Tf- 

1 

•     «    . 

- 

— . 

/ 

12X 

•            . 

itx 

■ 

20X 

)  ■ 

^„--«#**                             2IX                             32X 

* 

( 

« 

■Tmmm<mm'Mrji*' 


-"  'i-^^^  v^  I 


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Th«  copy  filmed  h«r«  haa  luaan  raproducad  thanka 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 


D.B.  Weldon  Library     ' 
Ujiivera ity  of  Western  Ontario 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  mrm  tha  baat  quality 
poaaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  iagibillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  Icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacificationa. 


OrigifMl  copiaa  in  printad  papar  eovara  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  bacic  covar  whan  appropriate.  All 
othar  oripinai  copiaa  ara  filmad  beginning  on  tha 
firat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impraa- 
•ion,  and  anding  on  the  laat  page  with  a  printad 
or  illuatrated  impreeaion,. 


The  iaat  recorded  frame  on  each  micr9fiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^(meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  aymbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appliaa. 

Mapa,  platea,  charta,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  catioa..  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  inciudiM.  in  one  expoaur^  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  comer,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa' 
required.  The  following  diagrama  illuatrata  the 
method: 


L'exemplaira  fiimi  fut  reproduit  grice  h  la 
ginAroaiti  da: 

D.B.  Weldon  Library 
University  of  Western  Ontario 


Lee  imegea  suKrantea  ont  *t*  reproduitea  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tenu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  netteti  de  rexemplairafilmi,  et  en 
conformiti  avac  lea  conditions  du  contrat  da 
-fiimage.  |     ' 

Lea  axempiairie  originaiiix  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  eet  imprimte  aorjt  filmta  en  commorient 
par  la  premier  plat  at  en|  terminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAre  page  qui  compprte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  dlHiiatiktion,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Toua  lea  autrea  axempleirea 
originaux  aont  filmM  en  commenpartf  par  la 
premiere  paga  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreeaion  ou  d'iilustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


J 


•PP« 


Un  dee  aymbolea  auivanta  apparattra  sur  la 
damiAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
caa:  le  symbole  — **signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbol*  ▼  signifle  "FIN". 

LAS  cartes,  planchea,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  itre 
filmto  i  dee  taux  de  rMuction  diffirenta. 
Loraqua  le  document  eet  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  aeul  clich4,  il  eet  flimt  i  partir 
do  Tangle  aup^riaur  gauche,  de  gauche  i  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  baa,  en  prenent  le  nombre 
d'Imegea  nteaaaaire.  Lee  diegrammea  suivanta 
illuatrent  la  mAthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

• 

1 

2 

3 

• 

32X 

» 

■ 

4     . 

J. 
5 

6 

• 

ML 


THRILLING  SCENES 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


WITH  A  GRAPHIC  DBSCRIPTION  OF 


CUSfTER'S  LAST  HGHT  WITH  SITTING  BOLL 


•f»' 


Anthor  of  **  Litat  w  nt*  Blaoc  Hills,"  "  Imsiam  Lmbmbs,** 


>  ^ 


m, 


Illustrated, 


•v 


■-£%: 


CHICAGO,  NEW  YOUIt  A:;D  SAN  FRANCISCO- 
ii:;  BBLFOUDi.CLAUKE  &  CO. 


"V 


.  f^^ 


...^^■- 


0      ,  -  *.  • 


.y. 


■.i^ 


i\ 


oopywqht, 

By  T.  M.  Newsou 

X884. 


a- 


OOWOMVK  tt  HKNNBBnirV, 


"^SSkaoo. 


33458 


,f^--'  *.!.; 


o. 


CONTENm 


Mis-se-jar-ga;  or,  the  Angel  Guide.....;....;,,;;, 

Indian  Treachery;  or  a  Run  for  Life 

Marriage  and  Death  of  Minnehaha.. ...... ..;,.;.. 

Birthplace  of  Mlnnghah^.. ;..;... .-.........,., 

Indian  Diplomacv  ....  i  r 

MinnetOoka;  an  Indian  Legend ....  .t. ..... » . . .  Z  f 

Thrilling  Scenes  Among  the  Indians. . . . .  .t . l;u„  ^. 

Wenona;  Maiden  Rock. ^ ; ' '  ^  *    * 

Lake  Pepin  and  Scenery .....-........!!'  *  * 

Kis-se-me-pa  and  Kar-go-ga. , . ,  ];  ]  * 

The  Skulking  t)og , , , , 

Pick-a-wa-ka  and  El-mo-na. !f! ! ! !! i! ii ! ! ^i [ ] [ ] ! [^ 

Memory  of  a  Noted  Chippewa  Chief ; 

He-le^-pa  and  Nim-pe-wa-pa /. . 

The  Mississippi  River;  its  Scenery , 

The  Battle  for  the  Apron. . . .  / 

A  White  Indian  Queen...... 

An  Indian's  Theory  of  thetJelestial  Bodies./.. .., 

The  Inner  Life  of  the  Indian...%. ......,..,,,;,  .; 

An-pe-tu-sa-pa;  Legend  of  St?  Anthony  Faui**' 

My  Last  Night  in  a  Sioux  Indian  Camp \[\\ ! 

Peculiar  Indian  traditions , ,; ;. , , .  ,;; 

TheGame  of  Ball-a  Thrilling  Scene, 7*7.;.*^.;. ! 

Pa-ha  Wa-kan ;  or,  the  Sacred  Descent. . . . > , , .. .     * 

Old  Bets;  Romance  of  Early  Life.. .....[.;[!!!''! 

Wa-zi-ya,-aniIffirKhclirnted  Knife. 

^  l>ujir>|i8,  Beliefs  and  Customs  of  the  Indians];  ' 


7 

14 
24 

33 

45 

55^ 

59 
63 

6$ 

7* 

-  75 

78 

-87  • 

92 

93 

98 
106 

XII      ' 

118 
i>8 

»35 
Jt4x= 


M5* 
149 


'^' 


\ 


•*!•  •-?«  •  •  •  ■ 


1^^  ^^tJ^an-Strange  Beliefs,........,...;,...; 

General  Q^ge  A.  Custer.. : . . . . ; ; 

Sitting  Bull,  Of  Ta-tou-ka-i-y-a-tou-ka 

The  Last  Great  Indian  Battle :.......*'* 

Sitting  Bull's  First  Visit  to  Civilization. *. '. '. 

An  Interesting  Trip-. 

A  Genuine  Scare , .  ^ 

Fort  Snelling  . .  ..........!.*!.!;]"'  1  ]  j  * 

Indian  Speeches  and  Indian  Council  ...      ' 

tarly  Missionary  Efforts 

Indian  Poetry. 

He  Will  Come .........s... .. 

Come  Again ; . , ^  ^  ^ 

The  Giant'»  pance , 

Never,  Never. i \ •  ^ 

Grandfather . . . . . . .  [ 

To  the  Spirit-land  ...  ^  .............. , 

Statistics 


153 
^172 

178 
184 
192 

20I- 
203 

ai5 

!2J 

237 

23> 

238 
238 


^J-f 


H. 


V 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Portrait  of  Sitting  Bull— Frontispiece. 

TE^  Race  for  Life 

Little  Crow :.....!...... ^^ 

Hole-in-the-Day ^^ 

Old  Bets •..  i  i  !!!*!!!!!!!!!!!*!!  y*  *  * "  ^^ 

The  Indians'  First  Sight  of  a  Railroad  Train..* .*  .* .'  ] .*  161 

Qeneral  George  A.  Custer 

Custer's  Last  Rally [[[[[ " * 


S 


173 
189 


''0f^ 


PREFACE 


< 


TlyjPST  of  ^he  scenes  described,  and  nearly  all  the 
iVl  mciden^  narrated,  in  the  pages  of  this  book, 
were  a  part  of  my  own-per^ilal  experience  of  a  resi- 
dence of  some  thirty  years  on  the  frontier,  and  for 
which  I  can  vouch  as  true,  exce|^j^perhapsi  tj^  incidents 
of  the  last  great -battle  of  the  lamented  Cu^r  with  Sit- 
ting Bull,  and  for  these  I  am  indebted  to  one  who  was 
early  onthe  ground  after  the  conflict,  and  who  Has  ob- 
tamed  from  the  Indians  themselves  what  I  deem  to  be 
a  very  accurate  picture  of  the  terrible  struggle  between 
the  contending  forces. 

Of  the  various  traditions  which  are  woven  in  among 
the  other  articles,  I  can  only  say,  in  the  language  o? 
Longfellow:    '  . 

' '  Should  you  ask  where  Na-wa-da-ha 
z  '     Found  these  songs,  so  wild  and  wayward, 

4  Found  these  legends  and  traditions,— 

,1  should  answer,  I  should  tell  tell  you, 

In  the  bird's  nests  of  the  forest, 

In  the  lodges  of  the%!eaver, 

In  the  hoof-prints  of  the  bison, 

In  the  eyrie  of  the^agle, 

'^^'^  N^'^'^a-ha  found  these  legends. " 
The- object  of  thiAork  is  to  group  together  ioflle  of 
the  traditions  of  the  past  and  many  of  the  character- 
istics  of  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest,  and  to  so  weave 


lancearrrhrstoiy  as  to  form  JnterestFng  reading 
matter  for  the  general  public.    Several  of  the  legends 


!rQM^.iH^ 


°  PREFACE, 

and  articles  now  published  have  already  appeared  In 
.^nt,  and  as  they  were  then  received  tWth  much  cor- 
diahty,  exhausting  the  various  editions  rapidly  the 
author  feels  warranted  in  the  belief  that  the  present 
volume  w.     be  favorably  received  by  a  discriminating 

W^'' 7  /    'i"  ''"'""'  '"''°'"^'  "^"^f^-  ^d  Peculiar 
ities  of  the  Indians  can  be  relied  upon  as  correct. 

'WPAu^Mi„„...8,4.  THE  AUTHOR. 


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MIS-SE-JAR-GA; 

OR,  THE  ANGEL  GUIDE. 


» > 


WELL,"  I  asked  of  an  old  Indian  of  nearly 
one  hundred  winters,  who  sat  over  a  camp 
fire,  smoking  his  well-wom  pipe,  "  What  legend  4o  you 
know  of  a  body  of  water  recognized  by  the  white  man 
as  Lake  of  the  Loons?"     He  gave  a  grunt,  emptied 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  refilled  it  with  kinnikinick, 
puflfed  away  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said : 
I    "  Many  moons  long  since  gone,  when  my  hair  was 
black  and  my  face  was  smooth,  away  oflf  to  the  east 
where  the  bright  spirit— the  sun— rises  and  washes  its 
face  in  the  morning  dews,  dwelt  my  forefathers,  and 
the  friends  of  my  youth.    Just  on  the  border  of  oyr 
reservation  setUed  a  paleface  ajid  his  family,  which  at 
.    first  made  our  hearts  bad,  but  they  were  so  good  and  so' 
kind  that  we  came  to  esteem  tliem,  and  they  lived 
among  us  respected     His  family  consisted  of  three 
boys,  and  a  golden-han-ed  giri  of  five  summers.    This 
child  was  as  fair  a^innehalia,  beautiful  as  sunset, 
.  happy  as  a  bird,  genlle  as  a  kmb,  sweet  as  the  Great 
Spint.    Her  winning  ways,  her  golden,  curly  hair,  Ker 
great  blue  eyes,,  her  innocent  prattle,  her  confidence  in 
the  red  man,  as  she  climbed  on  his  knee  and  toyed  with 
his  long  black  hair— the  contrast  between  the  sweet  lily 
face  and  the  tawny  complexion  of  our  tribe.  vir< 


the  name  of  Mis-se-jar-ga-'or  the  angerguide/'^ 
The  old  Indian  paused,  dropped  his  head  upon  his 


-X 


s 


MIS-SE-JAR-dA; 


'1 


^        br^t;  was  silent  for  a  mohient,  w«fn,  with  another 

-  -puff  from  his  pipe,  he. proceeded  with  his  story  '    '    . 

^  "W^te  mother  loved  child;  white  man  loved'child. 

'        ^"^^"dijn  loved  child  better  than  white  man/.  Child 

good     Child  angel.    Heap  big  heart  for  Mis-se-jar-ga-" 

' .    A  deep,  guttural  sound  escaped  from  the  old  Indian 

as  he  paused  again  and  gazed^  intently  into  the  fire  and 

hrj'-T^'lf^  """-r"^  ^'^"^  ^'  reWrie.by  my.  a^ki^g 
him:   'Leha cooler,  good  friend,  what  then?"  ^ 

^"Indian  steals  up  close  tb   white  man's  Wigwam 
Night  has  covered  the  beautiful  face- With  darknes-^; 
Mis-se-jar-ga  sleeps,  but  Indian  loved  Mis-sg^ar-ga.    He 
takes  her  upjike  a  pure  snow.flake,  wraps  her  in  his 

^  ?ir^   '  ""f  ^^'r  '^'  '^  ^"^^^^°"^'  g"^-»  -"^  into  the 
fores^and  ere  the  morning,  dawns,  is  a  day's  travel 

toM^^s  the  west.    Moons  come  and  go,  but  no  Mislse-. 
jar-ga.     Family  m^um,  but  no  Mis-se-jar-ga.    Mother 
dies  from  grief,  but  no  Mis-se-jar-ga.     Brothers  huiit 
the  woods  for  the  bones  of  their  beautiful  sister,  but 
no  Mis-se-jar-ga.     No  angel  guide  comes  to  comfort 
the  weary  heart  of  the  white  father.     Mis-se-jar-ga  is 
gone  forever  toward  the  setting  sun.      , 
^' Harry  was  the  youngest  brother  of  Mis-seijar^ 
•Many,  many,  more  moons  had  passed,  since  the  W 
had  gro^  to  manhood. -.The  nTemoiy  of  his  golden- 

^^ir^^^^t'^'''''''''     He  had  suspicions 
that  she  stiU  lived.     The  father  W  cr6ssed  the  river 

fJll    u^'^u'"'^  Joined  the  mother Jnlhe  s|>irit  land,   : 
and  the  brothers,  disposing  of  their  farm,  had  gone  ^^ 
back  to -their  friends  in  the  east.      Harry  lived  only  for. 
^ne^ead-^ne  aim-one  purpose-^the  restoratiori  of  his 


AlgiTn  the  Indiaiv  dropped  his  head  on  his  breast  ^d 


^«gf. 


^^^=^115^^^^^^^^^ 


OR,  THE -ANGEL  GUIDE,  „         g 

wte  silent,    t  let  him  remain  so,  when  rousing  up,  he. 
continued:         •  *    ,"  „     ^..    v  '  .         ^    ' 

"  ^any  had  corae  to  know  the  Indian  language;  the 
Ifidian  cbstumes,  the  Indian  mode  of  living,  and  bid-, 
ding  good-bye  to  the  old  homestead,  equipped  as  a 
.trapper,  he  s^t  out  for  the  Mississippi  river,  where  he', 
had  good  reason,  to  .believe  his  sister  had  been  carried;" 

I  here  interrupt  the  story  of  the  Indian  to  explain  to 
the  reader,  that -the  place  where  HarryX'father  had 
oppne^is  farm,'Was  in  ^the- extreme  eastern  portion  of 
Wisconsin,  where,  at  that  time,  no  white  man  but  he 
had  ever  dared  to  venture.  The  country  was  wholly  • 
inhabifed  byjji^s  children  of  the  forest,^o  since  tl^ 
have  been  moving  rapidly  westward,  and  for  hundreds 
of  miles  where  thfey  used  to  roam,  are  noW  cities  and 
cultivated  farms.  One  "can  form  a  vivid  conception  of 
how  difficult  it  must  have  been  for  Harry  to  jtrjtyerse 
this  wide  extent  of  country,  looking  for  his  long-lolt 
sister.       ,     r  ^      . 

The  Indian  resumed  his  narrative.  ^ 

"Trapping  along  thi  stfedms,  hupting  game  innHe  . 
woods,  sleeping  upon  the  .ground,'  or  occasionally  enjoy- 
ing the  l^spitality  of  an  Indian  tepee.  Harry  traveled 
continually,  buoyed  up  with>he  hope  of  nieeting  the 
blue-eyed  Mis-sfc-jar-ga,  whose  dear  little  features  haunt- 
ed him  night  and  day.  He  had  forgotten  that  teft  years 
had  elapsed  since  her  at^duction— he  had  forgotten 
that  the  child  had  bjoomed  into  the  young  girl—had 
forgotten  that  her  mode^f'iifejiad  changed  her— ha<i 
forgotten  that  the  clear  complexion  had  merged  into 
the  copper-cdlored,  tint  of  the  Indian  niaiden.    All  .he 


r=le  lirea^ied  of,  all  he  th6ught  of;  was  lh« 
golden-haired  chil^  of  his  boyhood.^      ^         -  / 


#  >. « 


c^ 


^. 


r^- 


n  • 


&">•% 


MIS-SE-JAR-GA; 


x/ 


"Wliei^  withrin  about  two  days'  travel  of  the  Missis. 
s.pp.  „ve;^Har,y  dre*  l,is  riiie  and  fired  at  a  d^^^ 
«  bounded  past  him.  Instantly  he  heard  wild  wa^ 
whoops  and  saw  thirteen  Indians  bearirfg  down  upon 
h,m,  w,t(?  uplifted  Icnives  and  tomahawks     In  va.n  he 

ttrt  th"  "'  r  '"-'"-<'-■"  vain  he  tard  to 
them  m  their  native  tongue ;    but  a  white  man  had 

muIbeT  "'"  "■"  ''"'''  -"«"T  before;  to  Them  he  ' 

'  nfhf  \  !f '  ""/"""y-  =°  ""'""g  '»  "^l^'s  to  make 
a  fight,  he  threw  down  his  gun  and  surrendered.    The 

Indians  drew  near,  seized  hi*  weapon,  hi«  knife   his 

hunterVdress  and  binding  his  h.nds  behind  him,o 

dered  hm,  to  follow  them.     They  crossed  the  MssL 

S.PP,  and  continued  on,  until  they  came  to  a  lake.  aZt 

h^l  '^T!'"'"'  """^  ''''''  «"^  here  they  were  me 
by  other  Ind«,ns  who  came  to.  see  ihe  prisoner     ™! 
was  their  camping  ground,  their  home.      Harn,  It 
inducted  to  a  small  birch-bark  tepee,  somewhaLpa 
rated  from  th.  rest,  and  after  his  arms  were  more  se- 

alo^i''    rr"'/"''  ""  ''''  """'y  '='»*-"«<'.  he  wa   left 
alone  w.  h  onfy  one  Indian  to  guard  the  door." 

The  old  Indian  turned  his  head  quickly,  seized  his  ' 

"Be  as  ,t  were  by  intuition,  crouched  down  upon  the 

ground,  and  after  a  moment  or  two  relaxed  fnto  his 

usual  composure,  and  continued  Ws  story 

^deil   n/''^''l  *''^ '""'»""  g^'thered  in  a  council  of 

undent  T       r.'"^  ""=  *''"^-  "'^"'  "^tening  and 
understandmg  all  they  said.    The  Ud  braves  advocated 

burmng  at  the  stake,  with  a  war<iance.     The  paletce   ' 

hfh^      K  '}""  '°""*'^ '  ^^  came  to  do  thej?  ham^ ;. 
tJfi:l  badspmt,  so  sentence  of  death  w„  passed 


*e= 


exetuted  In  two  days.    The  council 


~K!~--  .  --' 


»     - 


'****ll«( ' 


OR,  TTHE  ANGEL  GUIDE. 


t| 


■     '        ■«   ■  "       .       ■  ■" 

broke  up  with  a  wild,  weird,  thrilling  death  song,  whicl| 
fell  upon  the  ears  of  Harry  like  leaden  bullets. 

"^Morning  dawned,  and  with  it  no  hope  for  the  con, 
demned  man  !     Harry  knew  enough  of  Indian  charac- 
ter to  realize  that  his  doom  was  sealed,  so. he  begged  a^ 
a  la&t  boon  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  stroll  along 
Hie  shores  of  the  lake  and  commune  with  nature  before 
death  ended  his  career.     Oh,  if  he  could  see  that  sistef 
once  more  before  He  died ;  if  he  could  but  know  that 
she  still  lived,  it  would  enable  him  to  endure  the  terril, 
ble  end  which  he  knew  must  come.     Some  distance  be, 
low  the  lodge  where  Jj^had  been  imprisoned,  and  upon 
the  borders'  of  the  flK,  partially  hidden  by  beautiful 
trees  and  creeping  vines,  was  another  tepee ;  and  as  the 
prisoner  walked  along  the  shore  natural  curiosity  in^ 
duced  the  Indian  women  to  gaze  upon  him.     Harry 
looked  up,  caught  the  glance  of  a  girl  of  fifteen  years, 
with  Indian  complexion,  Indian  dress,  Indian  timidity,  - 
but  with  golden,  curly  kair  and  blue  ey/s!    Could  it  Im- 
possible !    Was  that  his  sister?    His  head  grfew  di^zyj 
he  tottered,  fainted  and  fell.     When  he  came  to  him- 
self, two  Indians  and  several  squaws  were  bending  over 
him,  and  among  them  the  young  maiden  whose  image 
had  frozen  his  heart.    He  spoke  to  her  in  English,  sh& 
heeded  him  not ;  he  spoke  to  her  in  Indian,  telling  her 
she  must  be  his  sister,~he  alluded  to  her  hair,,her  eyes 
so  different   from   the   Indian,  but  her  memory  was 
blank ;  he  could  make  oo  impression.     He  asked  per- 
mission to  lift  the  scarf  that  encircled  her  neck;  be- 
neath it  was  pure  white.    He  knew  it  was  his  sister,  but 
how  could  he  make  her  jgalize  it  ?    During  this 


itntepr 


View  the   Indians  gazed  with  astonishment  and  awe 
upon  the  scene  I    They  began  to  get' uneasy.    The  In, 


■# 


'1 


ite^tefes^ 


12 


MIS^^^ARtGA  ; 


dian  maiden 'herself  was  withdrawing  %o  her  tepee, 
when  Harty,  desperate  with  his  desire  to  have  her  tecog-    . 
nize  him,  once  more  began  talking  with  her  in  Indian.  '• 
He  spoke  of  her  childhood ;  her  brothers,  her  parents, 
her  abduction  ;  but  it  brought  no  light  to  the  memory? 
of  the  poor  girl.     Finally  he  alluded  to  the  name  of    5 
Harry,  to  her  eariy  play  ground,  her  baking  cakes  ia^i 
the  sand,  her  romping  with  her  little  brother ;  and  then,    " 
in  an  instant,  came  back  the  light  of  other  days.    She 
approached   him ;   asked^iim  to  repeat  the  name  of 
Harry;  asked  him  to  tell  her  more  about  the  sand 
cakes,  arid  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  uttered  a  piercing 
scream  fell  to  the  earth,  and  was  carried  to  her  tepee, 
while  Harry  was  conducted  back  to  his  prison  house, 
amid  great  confusion  in  the  camp. 

"That  night  there  was.  another  council,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it  stood  the  Indian  girl,  her  blue  eyes  flashing 
and  her  golden  curls  floating  down  her  back.     It  was 
Mis-se-jar-ga,  the  angel  guide,  whose  influence  with  the 
tribe  was  unbounded.    She  plead  for  the  life  of  the 
paleface.     It  might  be  her  brother,  it  might  not  be- 
but  why  take  the  life  of  the  white  man,  who  had  done 
them  no  harm  ?  why  incur  the  ill  will  of  the  Great  Spir^ 
it,  in  doing  a  great  wrong?    Her  efforts  were  endorsee! 
by  a  young  and  handsome  brave,  in  an  eloquent  plea 
not  so  much  for  the  white  man.  as  for  the  wishes  of 
the  Indian  maiden,  and  before  the  council  adjourned 
tlie  savages  had  relented,  the  death  sentence  had  been 
changed  to  liberty,  and  that  night  Harry  walked  among 
the  red  men,  a  h^p^y  man,  for  he  had  gained  his  life 
and  found  his  long-lost  sister.  . 

"  That  iiicmoiablc  spot,"  said  the  old  Indian,  point- 
ing  across  the  la^ke,  "where  Mis-se.jar;^a  spent  her  early 


(t.^fts'ttlSfm  «      A 


k.^^^^^'y^^ 


OR,  THE  ANGEL  GUIDE. 


15 


childhooS^^^^efe  she  was  recognized  by  her  brother, 
and  where  ^he  left  the  Indian  camp  forever  to  dwell 
among  her  own  people,  is  over  there,  yonder,  in  that 
quiet  little  dell,  where  the  tall  trees  sing  of  her  beauty 
and  of  her  innocence,  and  the  waves  of  the  lake  bewail 
the  absence  of  the  ANGEL  GuiDB. 


V 


M^ 


-V-*: 


sW^ 


- » 


■:^*. 


y       '^ 


I 


INDIAN  TREACHERY. 

A  RUN  FOR  LIFE. 

NINETEEN  years  ago,  while  on  my  way  from  Ver- 
milion  lake.  Hear  the  British  line,  I  found  that 
the  spring  floods  had  carried  away  all  the  bridges,  had 
stopped  the  stages,  indeed,  had  interrupted  all  travel  to 
such  an  extent  that  pedestrians  were  obliged  to  either 
walk  through  water  and  mud  some  thirty  or  forty  miles 
per  day— as  the  stage  stations  were  then  about  this  dis- 
tance apart  6n  the  traveled  road— or  lay  up  at  one  of 
the  -  inns  "  along  the  line.     I,  with  my  companion,  a 
short,  duck-legged  chap,  by  the  name  of  Camp,  who 
had  come  with  me  from  Vermilion,  decided,  pef  force 
of  necessity,  to  stop  at  a  place  called  "Deer  Creek;"  so 
"housing  in,"  we  adapted  ourselves  to  circumstances 
and  becoming  more  fully  acquainted  with  the  landlord 
and  his  wife,  soon  whiled  away  the  time  in  real  primi- 
tive,  frontier  style.     The  rain  out  doors  beat  against  the 
window  panes,  it  leaked  through  the  roof,  it  whipped 
in   under  the  door ;    the  swollen  stream,  after  which 
the  place  took  its  name,  roared  and  foamed,  and  tossed 
close  by  the  little  house  in  which  we  were  huddled-  the 
good  dame  had  fried  her  salt  pork  nnd  slap-jacks,'  and 
was  just  on  the  point  of  calling  us  to  dinner,  when  two 
weary  travelers  sprung  in  the  door  and  dripping  with 
water,  tired  with  walking,  exhausted    with    hunger 
stood  before  us,  objects  of 'our  deepest  commiseration' 


wcrc^. 


with  food,  and  in  a  short  time  we  found  ourselves  quite  ' 


^m 


A  RUN  FOR  LIFE. 


good  friends,  for  nothing  biil^s  men  together  mor© 
closely  or  cements  stronger  friendships,  than  adversity 
itself,  and  as  we  were  all  at  the  mercy  of  the  good  peo- 
ple of  "  Deer  Creek  "  and  the  raging  storm  without,  we 
became  particularly  interested  in  each  other  and  phil- 
osophers  at  large. 

Q"«  of  these  men  was  small  and  wiry,  the  other  had 
a  Idrge,  heavy  frame,  and  a  swarthy  complexion.   About 
an  hour  after  dinner  th^mall  man  drew  me  aside,  and 
said  confidentially— " You   see    my  companion?"'  4^ 
answered,  "I  did."    "Well,"  be  remarked,  "he  is  an 
Indian,  possessed  of  a  great  secret,  and  as  I  know  you 
are  interested  in  what  I  am  about  to  say,  I  will  com- 
municate something  to  you  of  great  importance:,  but  I 
want  it  understood  as  strictly  confidential,"  to  which 
of  course  I  assented.     "Well,  then,"  said  my  compan- 
ion    "that  Indian,  disguised  jn  a  white  man's  dres^, 
.under  which  is  his  own  garb,  know|.where  there  is  a 
[large  and  rich  deposit  of  metal.    You  see  those  ear- 
;nngs,  those  finger  rings  and  that  pijie,  all  of  solid  sil- 
ver?   Well,  he  -cut  that  metal  n^,^  of  the  rock, 
and  he  knows  just  where  it  is!"    "Is  that  so?"  I 
asked.    "  Yes,"  said  the  small,  wiry  man,  "and  what  is 
more,  I  will  get  him  to  go  with  you  a^nd  show  you 
where  it  is."    I  said  to  Camp,  "I'm  off  in  the  morning       . 
up   country,  on  an  important  errand ;  will  you  go  ?" 
To  which  he  replied,  "  Yes."    So,  soon  after  this,  mat- 
ters  were  arranged  with  the  Indian,  whereby  I  was  to 
pay  him  $50  when  he  had  shown  me  the  place  from 
whence  the  silver  in  his  possession  had  been  obtained 
and  we  concluded  to  commence  our  journey  the  next 
day.    Ca„.p,  the  Indian  and  myseirSarted  out  bn  foot, 
and  after  traveling  for  nearly  three  days,  came  to  the' 


i* 


.f,*., 


"T 


4 
1^ 


1Mil.< 


r 


M 


N 


"^-. 


|6 


INI51AN  TREACHERY. 


spot  wh^re  the  vein  was  said  to  be  located,  but  here  the 
Indian  halted,  under  a  superstition,  no  doubt,  of  his 
race,  that  if  he  told^a  white  man  where  the  "  shoon-e-ar,** 
or  nioney  was,  that  a  spirit  would  kill  him,  so  he  pre- 
Vfiricated,  stumbled,  paused,  and  finally  claimed  that 
th6  water  was  too  high ;  he  could  not  find  the  place, 
etc.,  etc.     Disgusted,  Camp,  myself  and  my  "  cowin 
nisisshin,"  not  good  guide,  set  out  to  the  nearest  house, 
knowing  full  well  that  we  must  either  make  it,  or  re- 
main all  i>ight  in  the  w^oods.    Camp's  little  duck  legs 
were  put  to  their  utmost  capacity,  but  he  kept  close  on 
to  my  heels  in  a  state  of  perspiration,  as  we  tripped 
through  a 'dense  woods,  and  after  a  walk  of  fifteen 
miles,  emerged  into  an  opening,  on  tlie  stage-traveled 
FosCd,  whdre  was  an  old  claim  shanty,  occupied  by  one 
O'Rally,  a  clever  Irishman,  who,  seeing  our  chilled  and 
tired  condition,  set  before  us  a  hot  whisky  punch,  and 
in  a  short  time  we  were  in  a  placid  and  pleasant  state 
of  mind.     During  our  trip  through  the  woods,  I  had 
observed  that  my  Indian  guide  evidently  intended  to 
detain  us  in  the  forest  until  after  dark,  and  this^ith 
some  other  peculiar  ai^tions  upon  his  part,  especially 
after  O'Rally  had  giveh  him,  some  "  Scoot-^a-wa-boo," 
or  whisky,  to  drink,  led  n^e  to  suspect  that  the  fellow 
was  contemplating  mischief,  but   I  said   nothing  to 
Camp.    While  in  this  state  of  mind,  and  undecided 
whether  I  would  go  oi\  ten  miles  further  that  evening 
to  catch  the  stage  in  the  mohiing,  or  remain  over  where 
we  were,  I  observed  peeping  into  the  window,  a  strange, 
hideous  Indian  face,  black,  with  angry  eyes,  high  cheek 
bones,  a  large,  firmly^  set  mouth,  and  huge  jaws.    He 


gazed  at  me  so  ferociously  that  T  actually  cowered  un- 
der his  penetrating  glare.    And  then  I  observed  that 


the  other  Indian  who  had  been  with  us  was  talking 
with  him,  and  both  were  armed  with  knives,  tortiahawks, 
etc.,— my  guide  having  cJbffed  his  white  man's  dressior 
that  of  his  own — and  what  made  matters  still  moi«  se- 
rious, was  the  fact  that  they  were  both  under  the  influ- 
ence of  whisky.  I  had  seen  a  gi-eat  deal  of  Indian 
character  under  various  phases,  but  I  had  never  before 
seen  a  savage  that  I  positively  feared  so  much  as  that 
black,  devili^  face  and  those  glaring  eyes,  that  ever 
and  anon  peered  in  through  the  window  upon  me. 

Fifteen  minutes  had  passed  and  I  had  seen  no  In- 
dians.   Well,  I   thought  to   myself,  they  have  gone 
home.    I  went  out  of  the  house  and  looked  round — 
nobody  to  be  seen.     It  was  getting^ew^ds  sun-down* 
Could  we  make  the  next  station  before  dark?    It  was  a 
very  desolate  and  dangerous  road,  but  as  my  especial 
fear  was  removed  in  the  non-appearance  of  the  Indians, 
||  decided  to  go  pn;  so  I  said  to  Camp,  "We  will  make 
/or  the  next  station.    As  those  devilish  Indians 
gone,  I  have  no  fear,  and  we  can  foot  it  lively."    It  had 
never  entered  Camp's  head   that  the  Indians  might 
attack  and  kill  us  on  the  road,  for  if  he  had  had  the  least 
suspicion  in  this  direction,  he  would  not  have  budged 
an  inch.    Something  in  my  look,  however,  must  have 
aroused  his  suspicion,  for  he  came  close  to  me,and  look- 
ing piteously  into  my  face,  asked—"  Do  you  think  there 
is  any  danger  on  the  road?"    "Oh,  no,"  I  replied    I 
didn't  like  that  Indian  with  a  dark  face,  but  I  guess  we 
''are  now  clear  of  them,  and  we  better  go  on.** .  "You 
know  we  are  not  armed,"  said  Camp.    "  Yes,  I  Know, 

you."         ,^ 

c^  ®*dding  good-bye  to  our  friend,  we  starts  but  on  « 


'W 


'j^j 


^■^       -sv»-«  _ 


INDIAN  TREACHERY. 


I'' 


> 


brisk  walk  just  as  the  sun  was  climbing  dfdwn  tl^ 
mountains,  and  winding  around  a  curve,  struck  into  a 
narrow  road  .that  lay  at  the  foot  of  high  hills  on  the 
right,  and  gorges  eight  hundfed  feet  deep  on  the  left. 
The  rocky  cliffs  frowned  down  upon  us  while  the  dark 
chasms  below  sent  back  dull,  heavy  thug  sounds,  as  we 
rolled  stones  over  the  precipice  and  heard  them  gurgle 
in  the  bottom  below,    fust  ahead  of  us  was  a  descent 
in  the  road,  and  we  could  see  a  little  brook  bubbling' 
over  the  rocks  and  making  its  way  dpwn,  down,  down, 
amid  a  dark  sea  of  foliage,  one  thousand  feet  below, 
and  as  we  drew  nearer  we  observed  that  the  ravine 
through  which  this  stream  ran,  was  spanned  by  a  crude, 
.  narrow  ^jidge,  and  to  my  utmost  horror,  on  this  bridge,' 
in  a  partial  state  of  intoxication,  sat  the  two  identical 
Indians  I  so  much  feared.    They  were  talking  humor- 
ously  with  themselves ;  swaying  to  and  fro,  and  did  not 
notice  us  until  we  were  close  upon  them,  when  they 
broke  out  in  their  Indian  dialect:  " Booshu,  neches ! 
Kersmokerman    ogamar,    scoot-ta-wa-boo,    nisisshin," 
which  means  in  English—"  How  do  you  do,  friend&I 
White  man  chief,  whisky  is  good." 

At  the  same  time,  the  ugly,  dark-faqed  Indian  got  up, 
and  approaching  me,  sought  by  force-  to  place  me  On 
the  bridge  between  the  two.  <•!  took  in 'the  whole  sit- 
uation at  a  glance,  for  once  in  their  clutches,  I  knew  a 
knife  would  soon  penetrate  my  heart,  and  my  body 
would  go  rolling  down  the  deep  abyss,  while  poor  Camp 
would  soon  after  suffer  the  same  fate;  so,  straighten- 
ing myself  up  and  assuming  an  air  of  defiance,  I  pushed 
^^^^j^^jg*^^^"^^"g  ^"<^^an,  andjittered  fn  a  ym±^ 


"'Towin    nisisshin,"  not   good.     "Cowin!"    I   won't 
drink.     Their  hilarity  deepened  into  an  ugly  scowi 


•j- 


■W" 


.  '■*'  ■ 


> 


tHe 
uck  into  a 
Is  on  the 
1  the  left. 
J  the  dark 
ids,  as  we 
;m  gurgle 
a  descent 
bubbling 
m,  down, 
it  below, 
le  ravine 
7  a  crude, 
is  bridge, 
identical 
g  humor- 
d  did  not 
len  they 

neches ! 
isisshin," 

friends! 

I  got  up, 
e  me  On 
hole  sit- 

knew  a 
\y  body 
)rCamp 
iighten- 

pushed 
iLvoicc, 
[  won't 
'  scowl. 


fy?^m^ 


'> 


A  RUN  FOR  LIFE. 


19 


They  hadbeen  foiled.  They  were  armed  with  l^nives 
and  tomahawks;  I  had  nothing  but  a  pen-knife,  and 
Camp  had  an  old  ax,  but  we  conveyed  the  impression 
that  I  had  a  revolver,  which  no  doubt  had  much  to  do 
in  keeping  them  at  bay.  Finding  that  I  woulcj  not' 
drink,  that  I  was  sullen  and  still,  they  passed  the  bottle 
to  each  other,  and  then  muttefing  to  themselves,marched 
on  ahead  of  us.  i 

"Camp,"  I  said,  as  he  crfept  close  to  my  side,  \\  am 
afraid  we  are  going  to  have  trouble  with  those  Indians." 
"  Oh !  my  God ! "  said  Camp,  "  do  you  think  the^  will 
kill  us  ?    Oh,  my  God,  my  God !  "     "  Well,  Camp|i  their 
motives  are  bad,  and  the  only  way  we  can  save  o3r  lives 
is  by  boldness  and  strategy.     If  they  knew  I  w/as  un- 
arjped,  they  would  kill  us  in  a  minute.  ~  Now  do/just  as 
I  tell  you,  or  your  life  won't  be  worth  ten  cents."/   "  Oh, 
don't  talk  so;  for  God's  sake  don't  talk  so ;  I'm'trem  ' 
ling  all  over  I    What  a  terrible  place  to  be  in  /on  t 
road !     Look  into  that  dark  valley  below !     If  my  body 
should  go  down  there,  my  family  would  never/ find  the 
remains  of  poor  Camp.    What  a  fool  to  come/ out  here 
to  this  horrible  place.     But  do  you   really  think  they 
^will  attack  us?"    "Listen.    A  certain  distajice  ahead, 
-they  will  sit  down  and  await  our  coming,  and  then  th^y 
will  try  to  induce  me  to  drink  again.    One/of  the  In- 
dians, under  a  pretext  of  lightening  your  burden  will 
seek  to  get  your  ax,  but  don't  you  let  it  g(/out  of 'your 
hand  at  the  peril  of  your  life.     If  it  become  necessary 
swing  it  and  strike  that  dark  visaged  Inian  dead  •  we 
can  manage  the  other.    They  are  getting  drunlcerlind 
^""S^"<^  of  course  Are  jprodons.  At  ia  darkening 


mto  twilight,  and  I  must  confess  the/outlook  is  ve^ 
-"-«'  "    Camp's  little  duck-legs  ma6e  several  circles 


senous. 


•         > 


-M^ 


§»'•■  -T 


•■.::^ 


20 


INDIAN  TREACHERY. 


for  a  few  minutes,  while  he  ejaculated— '^  oh  !  oh  !  oh!'* 
and  thtn  looking  more  lik€  a  dead  man  than  a  live  one, 
promised  faithfully  to  do  as  I  bid  him,  and  we  jogged 
on. 

True  enough,  a  little  way  ahead  of  us,  thei-e  sat  the 
Indians  awaiting  our  comihg,  and  as  we  approached 
them,  one  offered  me  the  bottle  of  whisky,  and  the  other 
sought  to  take  from  Camp  his  ax.     He  had  nearly  suc- 
ceeded, when'  Camp,  turning  upon  his  heel,  swung  the 
•  ax  high  in  the  air,  and  it  came  within  an  inch  of  the 
head  of  the  ugly  savage,  which  movement  I  immedi- 
ately seconded  by  stepping  up  to  Mr.  Indian,  and  put- 
ting my  fist. into  his  face,  ordered  him  to  let  that  man 
alone.     Our  actions  had  the  desired  effect,  but  we  could 
plainly  see   that   the   infuriated   beasts,  urged  ^n  by 
whisky,  were  getting  madder  and  madder,  and  that  it 
needed  strategy  as  well  as  bravery  to  carry  our  point. 
We  had  now  made  at  least  about  eight  miles,  and  had 
two  more  to  make  before  we  reached  Damphier's,  the 
station  from  which  the  stage  left  in  the  morning.    This 
the  Indians  were  aware  of  as  well  as  oursetves,  and  if 
they  intended  to  bag  their  game,  they  knew  and  we 
knew,  they  had  got  to  do  it  soon.     If  treachery  was 
their  point,  I,  intended  to  meet  them  on  that  ground, 
so  softening  my  ways,.  I  took  the  bottle  from  my  dusky 
friends  and  with  a  loud  "Ho!  "  drank,  that  is,  Ilet 
most  of  the  fluid  sjip  down  under  my  coat,  instead  of 
into  my  throat,  but  it  appeased  their  in<;feasing  hatred 
and  I  had  gained  the  point  I  desired  to  utilize  in  our 
next  heat,  which  I  knew. would  be  the  mdsl^exciting,  if 
not  the  fatal  one 


annaf— 


in  Qur  careeri^ 


ently,  overjoyed  at  my  friendship— which  I  knew  was 
only  a  feint—brandished  their  knives  high  in  the  air, 


'SM-' 


A  RUN  FOR  UFJ^ 


21 


glared 'put  into  the  increasing  darkness,  and  hardly  aWe  i' 
to  stand  up,  commenced  their  terrible  war-dance>  yell- 
ing, as  only  Indians  can  yell,  when  on  the  scent  of  blood. 
Poor  Camp,  sto^  by  trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf,  when 
we  both  started  tk^ove  along,  but  the  Indians  glided 
in  ahead  of  uk  and^  an  /excited  manner,  so(^p  gained 
an  advance.      V^  — ik-    ^  -^  — - 

"  Camp,  you  s^e  that  hill  ahead  of  us  ?  "     "  Yes." 
"\yell,  just  over Vit  is  Damphier's.     We  have  got  to 
make  that  point  oi^,the  virtue  of  our  limbs,  or  we  sh^l 
never  reach  civilization  !  "     "  Oh,  my  God  I  my  God," 
exclaimed  Camp.     "  Vou  know' I  can't  ruik;  I  am  a  dead 
man ;  those  devils  wil^  get  me  su«e."     'Avell,  \  is  our 
only  course.—^ris  a.rU^  for  life,  so  make  up  you^ind 
tovget  over  that  gro.und  just  as  fast  as  the  Lord  will  let 
you."    Camp  gave  a  lo^  groan.    **  When  we  come  up.    ', 
to  the  Indians  again,  I  Will  affect  to  drink  with  ^enr     , 
and  get  them  thoroughlir  engaged  in  narrating  some  of    . 
their  g^;eat  deeds  of  valc^r,  and  on  a  given*-  signal  you 
walk  ^h^ad'  unobserved,  land  ^on  another  signal,  throw 
aside  your  ax,  take  your  shoots  in  your  hands,  or  throw 
them  away,  and  make  foil  the  station  house  with  all  ^he 
power  you  possess.     I  will  catch  up^ith  you,'  and  we 
may  yet  be  sa^ed."    We  soon  came  i^  to  where  the     ' 
Indians  virere  sitting,  and  I  went  in  strong  with  them  on 
drinking,  bein^  careful-  to  let  the .  fieiy  stuff  eat  the 
lining  of  my  coat  rather -than  the  lining  of  my  throat. 
They  were  infuriated  drunk,  ready  for  any  dark  deed,^ 
with  courage  strong  enough  to  kill  a  dozen  white  men, 
but  I  adroitly  drew  them  into  a  discussion  as  to  the 
£e!g^jyjl  g}Mts^:lf  ^fll^i^Q^  gave  the  signalg  to  ■    - 


Camp ;  moved  away  from  them  quietly,  and  in  the  next 
^^^  "™i*^"*®s  ^*"^PA  short,  bantyjeg's  were  cutting 


>t^^. 


,X5 


INDIAN  TREACHERY.  V 

^    using  figuri.*  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  while&  own 
limbs  were  making  music  close  behind  him;    "Go  it 
Camp  I "  I  cried,  and  Camp  was  going  it^^^t-4c; 
>ots---no  coat.    Just  before  I  reached  the  tog  of  the 
hill,  I  looked  back,  and  found  that  the  Indians  had  dis- 
covered  our  flight,  and  were  coming  for  us  in  the  most 
horrible  manner,  wild  with  whisky,  recking  with    re- 
.  venge  for  their  disappointment,  cutting  the  air  with 
their  knives  and  tomahawks,  screaming,  running,  howl- , 
ing—presenting  one  of  the  most  revolting  scenes  I  Ji*    " 
ever  witnessed.     I  had  caught  up  with  Camp,  ai*di 
were  neck  and  neck.     "  There's  the  house,"  I  exdaimea, 
hold  out  a  little  longer,"  and  away  we  ran,  the  Indians 
fining  upon  us  every  minute.     We  could  almost  feel 
their  hot  breath,  and  in  imagination  see  the  descending 
tomahawk  entering  our  skulls,  when  Camp  went  head 
foremost  into  Damphier's  door,  and  in  an  instant  it  wds 
fastened  by  a  heavy  w£oden  bar,  and  the  next  moment 
our  frantic  foe?  gav^€ang-they  were  just  behind  us, 
but  to«  late!    Camp  went  turning  over  and  over  on  the 
floor,  tiying  to  gain ,  his  breath,  claimi;lg  he  was  dying 
while  Damphier  sent  his  family  igito  th?  log  part  of  the 
building,  and  with  his  double-barreled  gun  made  his 
appearance  for  the  fight.    Again  came  bang  against  the 
door !  again  I  ^aw  those  glittering  eyes-alain  aniDther 
bang,  bang,  when  Damphier  told  them,  Sirough  the 
window,  that  just  one  more  bang  woullM^em  the 
lives,  and  after  skull^iiSf  about  for  se^^K  trvi" ' 
the  Windows  and  the  doors,  all  was  stf^amp  got  up 
^nd  became  composed.    The  family  gathered  together 

tU^l'^  "^.^^  "^/^fP  ^^^^  night-we  were  all  on  watch 
^^^^"^^^"^orningrsnttt  was  heartiTyglaar 


A  |UN  FOR  LIFE. 


23 


when  the  st^^  took  us  whlrhng  away  from  this  ^ad- 
-ful  spot.  «*  *  , 

A  few  weeks  later  I'leamed  that  it  was  thejntention 
of  these  Indians  to  have  killed  us  on  the  road,  to  have 
robbed  me,  as  it  was  supposed  by  thl?m  I  had  money 
x)n  my  person,  and  from  all  I  could  gather,  the  small 
uj%y  man  who  gave  me  the  first  information  of  the  big^ 
"i|an  at  "  Deer  Cr^ek,"  was  the  original  instigator  fn 
whole  plot.  ^ 

I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  two  things,  viz :  the 
glaring  eyes  of  that  horrible  Indian,  and  the  little  duck 
legs  of  Camp  as  he  peeled  it  over  the  till,  in  A  RUN  ^r- 

DEAR  LIFE.  I    ^  '  "    . 


<■» 


iff^ 


* 


il^fM 


-*s-f-,T 


Is 


■1 


MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH  OF  MINNE- 


HAHA. 

MINNE  (WATBR)  HA!  HA-  (LA„CHING)^UUgHING 
•  WATER. 

T^M^r^rh  \°"Sf^"T  ^'^  "-de  memorable  in  song. 

little  i:  tw'  °'   '-r^'''"^  ^«'=^'  '^  be^"""" 
"Hie  cascade  that  goes  dancing  over  a  Drecio.Vf  =.„-) 

.*hen  tlie  joyous  brook  from  whence  it  comef  ^' 'i  j 

■ts  way  onward  to  the  Mississippi  river     ftSt!!' 

o^mg  the  cascade,  MinnehaHaVk  recetlTts  li  ^ 

Shrih  IZTT^-  ^  '''''  '"'  '*•-  --"- 

ani  Sh  lX:e"d  £  -^tt;.  "^ ^  ^'>- 

.H  with  Wild,  flowing  ,oc\rand  V:^^i':;jz' 

Z::t^T-  '°'''  '"''  --*-  pear.  in^h;S 

anta^s£&-4--^^^^^^^ 

on  marriage  is  beautiful.    geLys:  "'' ^°'''°r^    - 

"  As  unto  the  bow  the  cord  is, 
So  unto  man  is  woman  ; 
Though  she  bends  him.  she  obeys  him 
Though  she  draws  him,  yet  she  foilows- 
Useless  each  without  the  other," 


Having 


wmed  mrs  pors  in  his  own  mind,  he  per- 


-iLifei...^ 


T  f:  i- 


,^P^^ 


MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH  OF  MINNEHAHA. 


25 


sists  in  his  determination  to  unit^imseif  to  a  woman 

of  a  different  tribe,  and  in  response  to  old  No^ko-mis, 

who  objects  to  his  union,  he  replies  : 

"  In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs 
Lives  the  arrow-maker's  daughter, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 

Handsomest  of  all  the  women.  .      _ 

I  will  bring  her  to  your  wigwam, 
She  shall  run  upon  your  errands, 
^,         '  Be  your  starlight,  moonlight,  firelight. 

Be  the  sunshine  of  your  people." 

No-ko-mis  rejoins :  ,^  ._ 

"  Very  fierce  arc  the  Dacotahs; 
There  are  feuds  yet  unforgotten, 
Wounds  that  ache  and  still  mf^y  open." 

To  which  Hiawatha  answers:  * 

"  For  that  reason,  if  no  other, 
Would  I  wed  the  fair  Dacotah,  ^.  -  ^ 
That  our  tribes  might  be  united, 
"  ;j  -  That  old  feuds  might  be  forgotten,  "* 

' ■•  ^'  And  !^ld' wounds  be  healed  forever." 

With  this  determination  he  sets  off  to  the  land  of 
his  lady-love,  who  years  ago  he  met  and  admired,  and 
after  various  feats  of  valor,  among  which  was  the  kill- 
ing of  a  deer,  and  "  at  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured," 
he  arrives  at  the  coveted  spot.  I  leave  Longfellow  to 
tell  the  balance  of  the  story  in  his  own  inimitable  style : 
"  At  the  door- way  of  his  wigwam 

Sat  the  ancient  arrow-maker, 

In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 

Making  arrow-heads  of  jasper. 

Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony. 

At  his  side,  ^n  all  her  beauty,  • 

Sits  his  daughter,  Laughing  Water, 

f*laiting  mats  of  flags  and  rushes ; 


-m 


■r 


Of  the  past  the  old  man's  thoughts  were, 
And  the  maiden's  of  the  future. 


'r'«f^*«",t'''  ■*:«ft,'^s';'(; 


26         MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH  OF  MINNEHAHA. 

She  was  thinking  of  a  hunter, 
From  another  tribe  and  country, 
Young  and  tall  and  very  handLo'me, 

Who,  one  morning,  in  the  spring-tinK^, 
Came  to  buy  her  father's  arrows. 
Sat  and  rested  in  the  wigwanj. 
Lingered  long  about  the  doorWay, 
Looking  back  as  he  departed. 
She  ^  heard  her  father  praise  him. 

Praise  his  courage  and  his  wisdom; 
Would  he  come  again  for  arrows 
To  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha  ? 
On  the  mat  her  hands  lay  idle. 
And  her  eyes  were  very  dreamy. 

Through  their  thoughts  they  heard  a  footstep 
Heard  a  rustling  in  the  branches. 
And  with  glowing  cheeks  and  forehead, 
With  the  deer  upcJn  his  shoulders,  * ' 

Suddenly  from  out  the  woodlands 
Hiawatha  stood  before  them. 

Straight  the  ancient  arrow-maker    * 
Looked  up  gravely  from  his  labor. 
Laid  aside  the  Unfinished  arrow. 
Bade  him  enter  at  the  doorway, ' 
Saying,  as  he  rose  to  meet  him, 
"  Hiawatha,  you  are  welcome! " 

At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water 
Hiawatha  laid  his  burden. 
Threw  the  red  deer  from  his  shouldere: 
And  the  maiden  looked  up  at  him, 
Looked  up  from  her  mat  of  rushes, 

^  Said  with  gentle  look  and  accent, 

"  You  are  welcome,  Hiawatha! " 

Ustened  while  the  guest  was  speaking 
Listened  while  her  father  answered,     ' 
But  not  once  her  Upg  nhi.  nptpffi. 
"^  Not  a  single  Word  she  uttered. 


UARRIAGE  AND  DEATH  OF  MINNEHAHA. 


2J 


Yet,  as  in  a  dream,  she  listened 
,    To' the  words  of  Hiawatha, 
As  he  talked  of  old  No-ko-mis, 
Who  had  nursed  him  in  his  G^ildhood. 
And  of  happiness  and  plenty 
In  the  land  of  the  Ojibways, 
In  the  pleasant  land  and  peaceful. 

"After  many  years  of  warfare, 
Many  years  of  strife  and  bloodshed, 
There  is  peace  aftnong  the  Ojibways, 
And  the  tribe  of  the  Dftcotahs." 
Thus  continued  Hiawatha, 
And  then  added,  speaking  slowly: 

"  That  this  peace  may  last  forever. 
And  our  hands  be  clasped  more  closely, 
And  our  hearts  be  more  united, 
Give  me  as  my  wife  this  maiden, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Loveliest  of  Dacotah  women! " 

And  the  ancient  arrow-maker 
Paused  a  moment  ere  he  answered. 
Looked  at  Hiawatha  proudly. 
Finally  looked  at  Laughing  Water, 
And  made  answer  very  gravely: 
"Yes,  if  Minnehaha  wishes; 
Let  your  heart  speak,  Minnehaha! " 

And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water 
Seemed  more  lovely  as  she  stood  there, 
Neither  willing  nor  reluctant. 
As  she  went  to  Hiawatha, 
Softly  took  a  seat  beside  him, 
While  she  said,  and  blushed  to  lay  it; 
"  I  will  follow  you,  my  husband! " 

This  was  Hiawatha's  wooing! 

Thus  it  was  he  won  the  daughter 

Of  the  ancient  arrow-maker. 

In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahw. 


t  »• 


^      i 


Hi 

•St 


"it 


*  tn 


From  the  wigwam  he  departed, 
Leading  with  him  Laughing  Water; 


4. 


■'A 


t 


v/' 


28 


t  I, 


\ 

MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH  OF  JJJjJNEHAHA. 


Hand  in  hand  they  went  together    . 
Through  the  woodland  and  the  meadow; 
Left  the  old  man  standing  lonely 
At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam, 
Heard  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  them  foom  the  distance, 
Crying  to  them  from  afar  off. 
"  Fare  thee  well,  O  Minnehaha!  " 


!    \ 


V- — 


Time  wanes  and  the  famine  appears. ,  Hiawihaeoes 

huM    /°        '°  •"""*  ^°'^°°^  for  his  staX  w»? 
but  the  deep  snows  prevent  him  from  obtaining  game 
While  m  the  woods,  in  imagination,  he  heX  mZ!' 
haha  coding,  "Hiawatha!  Hiawatha!"  aWtasfrnt 

.'rwtrdr'i'nTtT-*?"''!:'^^ 

Lfngfeiiow.t^sUlmrSneljr^  "^  "^ 

BIRTH-PLACE  OF  MINNEriAI|I. 

The  Falls  of  Minnehaha  are  in   H«;.«     • 
Minnesota     On  fU  ,  .  Heftnepm  county, 

sparklmg,  foamy  appearance,  and   after  reachinJli; 
bottom,  ripples  along  to  the  Mississippfriver      ^  "' 
After  entenng  the  ground  and  reaching  the  ravine 
,ust  oppo  te,  on  the  other  side,  can  be  se^en  the  spot' 
dotted  with  trees,  wher^once  existed  the  wigwam  o/ 
the  old  arrow-maker,  and  where  was  bom  andTweTt  t 
peaceful  loveliness,  Minnehaha,  or  LaughTng  W    e. 
The  place  then  was  more  studded  with  natures  hand, 
work  than  now,  and  the  quiet  little  home  of  the  fat 
ma.den  nestled  close  to  the  merry  rivulet  th.^rptl^ 


,  '^■th  her^wn  sweet  vol  e  in  h,  T;  "^  "''j 

forest    But  what  changes  have  taken  plL^sTce  11 


:-SfiK« 


MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH  OF  MINNEHAHA. 


29 


Gone  are  the  Indians ! — gone  is  the  beautiful  maiden  !— 
gone  is  Hiawatha! — gone  are  many  of  the  trees! — gone 
the  deeri  and  in  their  places  have  come  culture  and 
civilization ;  and  yet  Minnehaha live^oh, commemorat- 
ing, the  memory  of  one  made  immortal  by  the  magic 
pen  of  the  poet,  and  the  echoes  from  the  past  come 
back,  ever  singing,  Minnehaha!  Minnehaha!  . 


>v. 


,i> 


1-,^- 


L./y^ 


'^'^f-' 


.   >!■"• 


%  \ 


.^  " 


INDIAN   diplomacy! 

ADROITNESS  OF  AN  INDIAN  CHIEF. 

^HIRTY-TWO  years  ago,  Govenor  Ramsey,  of 
X      Minnesota,  was   called    upon   to   adjust   serious 
difficulties  which   existed   between  the  two  powerful 
tribes  of  Indhns  existing  in  the  then  Territory  of  Min- 
nesota  and  to  this  end  he  called  a  council  of  the  Siou^ 
.  and  Chippewa  nations  to  meet  at  Fort  Snelling,  where 
troops  and  cannon  could  be  made  available  in  case  o£ 
an  qutbreak.    the  council  was  to  be  held  just  outside 
of  the  walls  of  the  fort,  in  the  open  space  where  the 
old  Government  stables  used  to  stand,  and  on  the  open 
prairie  between  the  garrison  and  the  stable  buildings.    ' 
Ihe  tribes  were  on  very  good  terms  with  the  whites 
but  at  deadly  enmity  with  each  other,  to  such  an 'extent 
that  almost  daily  murders  occurred  among  them,  and  it 
needed  the  interposition  of  the  strong  arm  of  the  Gov- 
ernment  to  stay  the  treacherous  knife  and  the  fatal 
tomahawk;  so  in  June,  1850, -the  council  met  at  the 
•place  designated.     Early  in  the   day   the   Chippewas 
made  their  appearance,  and  took  up  their  position,  out- 
side pf  the  walls  bf  the  fort,  rather  enjoying  the  occasion 
as  one  of  fun  and  frolic.    At  length  the..Sioux  made  ' 
their  appearance  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  across  the  St 
i^eter,  now  better  known  as  the  Minnesota  river  and 
on  they  came,  t)ell-mell,  as  though  they  intended  to 
gobble  up-Indian   style-fort,  troops,  cannon,  guns  ^ 

and  their  inveterate  s.ivhcrf*  (f\e>.^UA  ru:... ^ — 

^^^.„— ^  ..^_^  .,*w*»fc^  ortvctgc  tt^c,  cnc  cnippewas. 


E.  D.  Neill,  who  was  an  eye  witness  to  the 


80 


scene,  says ; 


,X'"i:J«S^^^itT"-!S«'.^^^MM 


ADROp'NESS  OF  AN  INDIAN  CHIEF. 


31 


"The  few  infantry  present,  on  the  approach  of  the 
Sioux,  were  extended  in  an  open  line,  nearly  from  the 
fort  to  the  stables,  so  as  to  form  a  separation  between 
the  Chippewas  in  their  rear  and  'the  advancing  band  of 
the  Sioux,  numbering,  perhaps,  three  hundred,  a  large 
portion  on  horseback,  armed  and  painted,  who  by  this 
time  were  rushing  up  on  to  the  plateau,  screaming  and 
A^hooping  horribly,  themselves  loaded  with  jingling 
arms  and  ornaments,  and  their  horses  with  bells  on,  the 
whole  of  them  galloping  at  full  speed  and  making  a 
feint  as  if  they  would  pass  around  the  stable,  turn  the 
right  flank  of  the  infantry  and  attack  the  Chippewas ; 
but  they  were  only  showing  off ;  they  stood  in  fear  of 
those  ugly  cannon  that  frowned  down  from  the  walls  of 
the  fort.     The  Sioux  soon  fell  back  and  formed  a  line, 
discharging  their  pieces  in  a  scattering  fire  as  they  did 
so.    ThrChippewas  returned  the  salute ;  the  guns  from 
the  for1;,responded,  when  a  white  flag  appeared  between 
the  two  opposite  lines,  and  the  two  tribes  stacked  their 
arms.   Then  returning,  the  two  lines  advanced  until  they 
reached  the  file  of  infantry  which  separated  them,  when 
the  chiefs  and  braves  met  at  the  centre  between  the  lines, 
and,  advancing,  went  through  the  ceremony  of  shaking 
hands.    At  a  certain  point  in  the  council  meeting  it 
was  observed  that  the  Sioux  had  left  en  masse,  and 
upon  inquiry,  it  seems  that  their  highnesses  had  taken 
offense  at  the  presence  of  the  ladies  in  council,  and 
word  came  in  that  they  thought  they  Ayere  to  meet 
Chippewas  in  council,  not  women.    Hole-IN-THE-Day, 
the  noted  chief,  turned  the  matter  to  his  own  advan- 
tage, saying  very  politely,  that  he.  was  happy  to  see  so 


many  sweet  women  fhere,~and  thaTTHey  were  all  wel-' 
come  with  their  angelic  smiles  to  a  seat  on  his  side  of 


^fi 


w 


*: 


S3^^nAitfJkfSy}\;f^£&4 


'^* 


-i 


34 


INDIAN  DIPLOMACY. 


<«>'% 


the.  council.    The  ladies,  however,  when  they  heard 
what  had    occurred,   chose  to  withdraw,   the  young 
Chippewa  chief  shaking  each  one  cordially  by  the  hand 
as  they  retired.    The  Sioux  having  returned,  the  Gov- 
emor  rebuked  them  shafply  for  their  act  of  disrespect 
to  the  council,  saying,  that  if  they .  withdrew  again  in 
that  manner,  he  would  enforce  the  treaty  of  1843    The 
two  tribes  finally  agreed  to  be  friendly,  and  the  council 
adjourned,  but  the  act  of  Hole-in-the-Day  was  the 
talk  of  the  whites  for  years  afterward,  and  is  remem- 
bered very  kindly  even  by  the  ladies  of  to-day,  one  of 
whom  is  the  wife  of  ex-secretaiy  of  war,  Ramsey,  of 
Mmnesota.    > 


/^ 


•  i*'i^ifa^!2£  iJ-v**J    -.,i^%>^i  , 


'^■•f'^: 


MIN-NE-TOO-KA. 

A  LEGEND  OF  M-DE-A-tbN-KA. 

WA-KAN—WAR-KA-NON— MAN-I-TOU— MIN-NE-TOO-K^ 

IT  was  a  beautiful  day  in  June,  1854,  when  I  arrB?ed 
at  Lake  M-de-a-ton-ka,  and  taking  a  small  and 
rudely  constructed  boat,  was  soon  to  a  pojnt  midway  of 
the  lake,  well  known  to  the  old  settlers  as  the  dividing 
line  between  the  Sioux  and  Chippewa  nations,  where 
many  a  bloody  battle  had  been  fought,  and  where 
many  a  warrior  had  gone  down  to  the  sleep  of  death. 
I  ascended  gradually  from  the  lake  to  a  height  of  some 
thirty  feet,  winding  over  an  Indian  trail,  through  a 
[mass  of  rich  foliage,  blooming  flowers,  creeping  vines, 
singing  birds,  chirping  squirrels,  massive  trees,  cooling 
shades,  changing  scenery,  until  I  reached  the  top,  and 
there  a  grand  sight  met  my  view.  Stretching  off  in  the 
[distance  was  the  sparkling^  water,  and  from  various 
}  knolls  ascended  the  smoke  of  the  wigwam,  where  the 
women  were  engaged  in  tli'e  sugar  bush,  while  the  men 
dotted  the  lake  in  their  light  canoes,  in  quest  of  game 
for  their  evening  meal.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  a 
thousand  diamonds  seemed  to  glitter  on  the  bosom  of 
the  fair  lake,  as  the  silvery  wav£s  rippled  against  the 
pebbly  shore,  and  darted  back  again,  like  a  beautiful 
maiden  toying  with  hter  jewels.  Here  and  there  wete 
bays  and  inlets  and  promontories;  nooks  and  quiet, 
secluded  points ;  yonder  was  a  dark,  forbidding-  spot, 
tTuckly  studded^with  tre^,^^~as  I  gazed  npon  itf  I 
could  see  that  it  was  th^  resting  place  of  the  dea4,  or 


iit- 


f 


'  ^ 


tJMfk 


34 


MIN-NE-TOO-KA. 


m  vF 


#■, 


I' 


the  land  of  the  supernatural,  where  the-  Man-l-to^  and 
War-ka-non  (Indian  spirits)  •  reveled  in  their  nightly 
visits  to  their  earthly  friends.-  Just  at  the  right  of  me, 
and  near  where  I  stood,  ran  a  bubbling  brook,  now 
quietly  ^nestling  under  the  cover  of  brush  and  trees ; 
now  dashing  and  laughing  over  the  impediments  in  its 
way;  now  romping  gaily^nward  to  the  lak^.  At  my 
back  was  a  charming  spot,  overiookir(|:  the  whole  scene 
I  have  described,  and  in  it,  shut  oiit  from  vulga;;  gaze 
l?y  the  thick  foliage  of  the  under  brush,  was  an  Indian 
tepee,  with  little,  timid  heads  peeping  out-li'om  under 
it,  and  a  stalwart  chief  smoking  his  p||^  near  its 
entrance.  As  I  approached,  the  chief  aro^^took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  greeted  me  cordially  by  a  shake 
of  the  hand,  and  with  a  'i  How,  cooler  ?"— how  to  do?— 
pointed  to  a  log  near  him,  where  I  soon  was  seated. 

"Beautiful,   lovely,    charming    spot,"    I    exclaimed 
somewhat    enthusiastically,   to  i,^ich    the    chief    re- 
sponded—"  ho  ! "  "  Heap  big  amountof  fish-^heap  big 
game,"  again  I  ventured  to  remark,  to  which  came  back 
again  the  inevitable  "ho!"    All  was  silent. 
^     The  reader  must  remember  that  the  Indian  can  never 
be  hurried,  except  in  case  of  war  or  dinner.    He  has  no 
particular  pressing  business— no  notes  to  pay— no  land- 
lord to  demand  his  rent— no  butcher  to  poke  a  bill 
under  his  nose— no  groceryman  to  stop  his  flour  if  pay 
don't  come— no  big  parties  to  give  in  order  to  keep  up 
appearances--no  hired  help  to  dog  him  about  and  bore 
him  for  services  rendered— no  fashionable  society  to 
cringe  to— indeed,  no  particular  labor,  for  the  squaws 
perform  the  menial  duties  of  the  household,  so  he  is 
T^HriirarpeiraeriE  ~ir:he  is^hu^^ 
the  game   is,  and  a  few  hoi^j^  hunt  will  suffice  to 


}     t 


A  LEGEND  OF  M-DE-A-TON-KA. 


4 


35 


rejtolfsii  the  lardei^  at  least    until    t  ,  . 
Beside,  he  takes  n5  thought  for  lElie  nhorrow,  as  he 
knows  that  if  in  want  the  tribe  must  share'  with  him.      , 
Hence  he  is  lymphatic,  not  nervoi^s ;  stoical,  not  gush- 
ing;  cool,  not  ardent;  taking  his  owiyj time— moving, 
in  his  own  way.  x' 

I  sat  at  least  ten  minutes  in  silence,  smoking  the  pipe 
which  the  o^d  chief  alternately  passed  to  me,  when  1  ^ 

broke  the  stillness  by  requesting  him  to  tell  me  some- 
thing of  the  early  history  of  the  lake,  what  legend,  if 
any,  pertained  to  it,  what  battles  had  been  fought,. what 
superstitions  existed,  etc.,  etc.,  to  which  he  gave,  only  a 
guttural  response  of  "ho,"  coolly  refilled  his  f)ipe, 
peered  out  into  the  sunlight,  gave  several  rapid  puffs, 
to  be  sure  that,  the  kinnikinick  was  well  lightfed,  and 

then  said:  «  *  - 

INDIAN  LEGEND.  '  ' 

Many  springs,  and  many  moons,  and  many  leaves 
of  the  forest,  and  many  kinsinen  of  Ink-pa-go-da  h^ve 
come  and  gone,  since  the  Chippewas  stealthily  crept 
down  upon  a  band  of  Sioux,  numbering  thirty,  neat 
where^  we  now  sit,  and  in  a  moment,  all  unconscious  to 
our  brave  warriors,  desolated  our  hunting  ground  with 
the  blood  of  the  slain.  The  slaughter  was  indiscrimin- 
ate, men,  women  and  children;  but  one  beautiful 
maiden  was  left,  and  she,  it  seems,  was  hidden  by  a  - 
Chippewa  lover,  who,  when  the  fatal  tomahawk  was 
about  to  descend,  arrested  the  blow,  seized  her  ground 
the  waist,  and  with  the  agility  of  a  panther,  placed  her 
safely  in  a  secluded  spot,  where,  when  the  battle  was 
over,  he  intended  to  return  and  claim  her  as  his  own. 
ffnirlTTdian^wasrvisibler  ifmrgei 


Days  passec 
the  maiden  from  her  seclusion,  to  pick  berries  to  sus-^ 


1 


i,SstBw».; 


ifiSKiM^iMsijiMii 


J..JI   mil.  .u-.VJil.»'i»  *i««sfi^jilU. 


^ 


IWt 


M 


MlN-M-TdO-KA. 

r   ■■■■.^1  .       i-.—f-  ■  ,.      .r  ^    ;■ 


.••^f, 


tarn  life  but  while  in  the  act,  she  was  met  by  a  Sioux  ' 
Indian  chief  and  the  Chippewa  warrior  who  had  saved 
her  from  death.     Terribly  frightened,  she  fled  back  to 
her  place  of  safety,  but  to  her  great  astonishment  the 
Indians  glided  along  with  her,  so  that  whea  she  had 
reached  the  spot  from  whence  she  came,  tfiey  were 
tbere  also.     The  heart-rehding  memoiy  pi  the  death 
of.  her  whole  band;  the  fear  of  tim  C^hippewa,  which 
she  did  not  at  first  recognize,  caused  her  to  crouch 
down  in  oneforner  of  her  hidfng  place  and  call  upon 
Man-i-tou  the  great  spirit  of  scalps,  to  protect  heMn 
'   this,  her  hour  of  dreadful  distress.     To  her  astonish- 
ment,  when  she  looked  up,  she  beheld  a  kindly  smile 
upon  the  chief's  face,  but  a  spirit  of  sadness  brooded 
over  the  young  Chippewa  brave. 

"  Min.ne.too-ka,"  said  the  chief,  "fear  not.  I  am 
sent  by  Man-i-tou  to  aid  you.  You  see  me ;  you  hear  " 
me  speak,  and  yet  you  cannot  touch  me.  I  have  come 
from  the  happy  hunting  ground,  and  with  me  is  War- 
ka-non  who  loves  you.  He  loved  you  when  he  saved 
your  life.  He  loved  you  when  in  crossing  the  lake  he 
lost  his  own ;  he  loves  you  as  a  spirit  yet,  and  comes 
back  to  minister  to  your  comfort."  ' 

Min-ne-too-ka  did  not  dare  to  stir.    She  cr^p^t  still      • 
closer  to  her  hiding  place.     Her  heart  beat  violently 
and  she  trembled.  ^ 

"Fear  not,  Min-ne-too-ka,"  said  War-ka-non,  in  a 
gentle  and  sweet  voice.  My  people  panted  ifor  the 
blood  of  the  Sioux,  and  oh,  the  horrors  of  that  night 
I  could  not  see  you  stricken  down  with  the  rest,  and  so 
I  saved  your  life  in  hopes  of  a  union  on  ..r,]y^  h„t  T  am 
TrowT)eyond  the  mere  materiality  of  the  world.    I  walk 


^LEGEND 


rOE-A-TON-KA. 


37 


in  the  happy  hunting  ground,  but  I  am  not  happy 
because  you  arp  not  there."/  '  ^ 

"  Can  it  be  possible,''  asked  Min-ne-too-ka,  "  that 
these  forms  that  I  see  before  me  are  mere  shadows  of 
what  they  once  were  ?  "  . 

"No,"  said  War-ka-non,  "we  are  the  living  realities 
of  material  men — the*  real  men  themselves."    .— -  ^     ■-, 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  maiden,  as  she  gained  confidence, 
and  drew  near  the  two  Indians,  "  if  you  be  what  you 
purport  to  be— spirits— if  you  come  from  th^t  unseen 
land,  tell  me,  where  are  my  father,  my  mother,  my 
sisters  and  my  brothers  ?  "         ., 

"They  are  all  there,  Min-ine-too-ka,"  replied  War- 
ka-non.  With  the  red  wand  they  passed  the  bad  spir- 
its, with  the  blue  wand  they  passed  the  tempting  spir- 
its, with  the  white  wand  they  passed  into  the  beginning 
of  a  higher  life." 

"  Strange,''  said  Min-ne-too-ka,  "  letme  touch  you ! " 

"  No,"  said  the  chief  and  his  companion,  "  that  would 
not  do,  because  you  would  dissolve  our  materiality, 
without  which  you  could  not  see  us.  We  put  on  this 
material  dress  in  order  to  make  ourselves  known. 
When  we  pass  from  you,  we  become  invisible  to  earthly 
eyes,  but  visible  to  spiritual  eyes.'; 

"  Strange !    Very  strange !  "said  Min-ne-to6-ka#     " 

"  Follow  me,"  said  the  chief. 

"  No,  I  gan't,"  said  the  maiden ;  "  I  am  too  weak,  and 
must  have  food."  - 

"  Very  true,"  replied  the  chief,  "  then  remain  here 
until  we  return."  ;  v  . 

Tn  ?^  mnmf^nt  they  were  ^one.    Min-n(B-too^^ul4 


I- 


^J 


not  believe  her  senses  ;  she  must  have' been  dreaming. 
Had  she  been  taking  with  veritable  men,  or  was  her 


■iV!^' 


fm- 


>  A 


38 


MIN-NE-TOO-KA. 


brain  on  fire  ?    She  emerged  from  her  se«hision,  looked 
out  on  natftre-all  was  beautiful.     Why  this  affliction  ? 
Just  then  the  chief  and  War-ka-non  made  their  appear- 
,     ance,  and  m  their  hands  were  fresh  fish,  duck,  and  a 
piece  of  deer.     "  Take,  cook  and  eat,"  they  exclaimed, 
and    Min-ne-too-ka    built    a    fire,   dressed   the   game 
cooked  It,  and   in  company  with  her  companions,  eat 
heartily  of  the  food  so  providentially  placed  before  her 
"  Come,"  said  the  chief,  "  now  follow  us,"  and  they 
wound  down  that  path,  said  my  informant,  crossed  that 
brook,  njfesed  over  that  trail,  all  in  sight  of' where  you 
sit,  to  the  edge  of  the  Jake,  where  they  found  a  canoe 
into  which  they  embarked,  and  then,  without  noise  or 
paddles,  the  boat  skimmed  the  water  and  touched  the 
opposite  shore.     Entering  the  woods,  they  were  in  the 
city  of  the  dead-Wa-kan.     They  traveled  a  short  dis- 
tance- when   they  came  to  an   open   s'pace   and   then 
halted.     Hei-e  lay  the  bones  of  their  ancestors  and  their 
relatives,  especially  those  who  fell  by  the  hands  of  the 
Chippewas.     The  tall  and  thick  trees  shut  out  the  sun- 
light—all was  calm,  and  silent  and  grand.     The  chief 
and  his  companions  moved  toward  the  open  space  and 
selecting  a  somewhat  secluded  spot,  paused. 
,      "  Look,  Min-ne-too-ka,"  he  said,  "  but  utter  no  word 
.Be  not  afi'aid."     The  coy  mai'den  trembled  with  fear" 
bhe  was  in  th6  hands  of  an  invisible  power;  she  tried 
to  breakaway  and  run,  but  could  not.     She  tried  to 
scream  but  could  not,  so.  standing  between  the  chief 
and  War-ka-non,  she  patiently  awaited  what  might  fol- 
low.     Presently  a  phosphorescent  light  gleamed  among 
>the  trees;  she  saw  her  own  peoplr  quietly  rcpooing  in 
and  about  their  tepees ;  she  saw  her  own  self,  when  all 
•^        Of  a  sudden  a  >yild  war-whoop  burst  upon  thcair ;  she 


'%^i 


i-ii^r 


■^s"^"i;Kej!^'1rt'rjV"''f^,  *""^i'iV»  f*" 


A  LEGEND  OF  M-DE^A-TON-KA. 


39 


crrasped  at  her  companions,  but  they  melted  away  un-  ^ 
der  her  hands.  She  could  not  endure  the  revoltmg 
sight '  She  tried  to  speak,  but  her  lips  were  glued. 
Then  came  the  infuriated  savages  ;^ then  followed  the 
massacre ;  then  she  saw  War-ka-non  seize  her  around 
the  waist,  and  then-all  was  dark.  She  turned  and 
looked  ;  her  companions  were  gone  and  the  scene  faded 

from  her  view.  <  

Min-ne-too-ka    was    almost    wild  with  excitement. 
What  did  all  this  mean?    Was  it  a  reality  or  a  dream  ? 
How  should  she  get  out  of  this  dreadful  entanglement? 
'  Turning,  she  moved  a  few  steps  to  the  right,  when  her 
mother  stood  before  Her,  so  real,. so  calm,  so  gentle,  so 
loving,  that  she  involuntarily  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
greet  her,  but  the  voice  came  back :  "Touch  me  not ;  I 
am  your  mother.    I  come  to  comfort  you ;  I  come  to 
assure  you  that  you  are  in  the  hands  and  under  the  con- 
trol  of  Indian  spirits.     They  will  protect  you.     The 
scene  you  have  just  witnessed  will  be  followed  by  an- 
other  scene,  and  in  it  you  can  draw  a  moral  lesson  of 
the    results    of    crime.      Be  not   afraid,  your    father, 
mother,  sisters  and  brothers  are  about  you,  and  the 
chief  and  War-ka-non  will  protect  you  from  a    harm. 
•  With  a  smile  o(  sweetness  the  figure  gradually  faded 
away,  and  Min-ne-too-ka  looked  out  again  on  the  cold, 
black  trees,  the  little  mounds  that  covered  the  bones  of 
the  dead,  and  tl^e  dismal,^  brooding  darkness,  that,  like 
^  a  black  pall  encircled  her  light  and  beautiful  form. 

"Min-ne-too-ka  is  afraid,"  said  the  chief,  as  he  and 
War-ka-non  appeared  on  either  side  of  her.  "  No  harm 
..»..  tn  Min-ne-too-ka.  Min-ne-too-ka  is  governed, 
guided,  protected  by  spirit  band.  Mm-ne-too-ka  good. 
Look I" 


\^  V- 


ffn&"Hi>riiiiiiitiiitiwMftttfiiiinA  iBmlHiHiiiitttiftd  nii'l-ui   m  ^ 


s^i.XijJ..i^l!Miemi«^mSS 


MIN-NE-TOO-KA. 


^^4^ 


,>   The  darkness  was  dissipated  by  another  flash  of  „i,„ 
Phorescent  light,  when  off  in  the  distance  co^d  beten 
a  beaufful  count,y,  with  trees,  broolcs,  lakes,  deer  bWs 

-Jit^^L:Lv-r:„^:s^^^^ 

not  r  c";  °''  °"k''  *'''^''  ^"^  --gni-d  as  W   -ka 

cn,el  death   Th""      '"'  "''°  '''  ''''^'^  ''^^  '™"  ^ 
cruel  death.    The  scene  was  so  peaceful  the  face,  .„ 

happy,  as   they  gazed    affectionately  upon   her    the 
county  so  lovely,  that  she  lost  all  fear,  aTd  lookTne  uo 
nl\       '^T"''  f^^^- "eseeched  him  to  let  hlr    " 
Oh  how  she  longed  to  be  at  rest  in  that  beauifuHand' 

rene^dow  """""f ''"  "'■''   "^^-^-"on,  smi  „g  "e! 

yet  mifd    wL°k  "' " "°'  '''■  ^°"  ■"'-'"- '?  "ot 

yet  niied.     War-ka-non  go  with  Min-ne-too-ka  tn  fl,. 
ha^y  hunting  ground  when  destiny  ends  ht  carlt: 

.    lefSee"f;"l-!r'ff' ■  ""'f  '"^  '=''''='•  P°'"*''"e  to  the  -. 

visa^ed  I„Hi.„  ""'  "■^^  "'^'■^  »«veral  dark- 

siKht^ir -rtheTcf  'of  Ta^f  '''"  "  ^"^  -»- 
dered  inthe  water,  ^ht  tl  fln'^-t^^' r.^dfand" 

ITtL        .   t  '""''     "  '^'"'"^'J  'h^  Woodof  the  fair 

Tn  ,  ;  'k'';.'"  "'P'  "P  ''»»"  to  the  side  o  War  fcl 
npn  and  shyddered  at  the  sight  before  her.  '^      , 

^^^^T^ITTL  ^'^  ^"^  '^'■■•ef.  "  is  the  ri r 


ri'.j-Jii' 


-  ?»■"*-" 


•■*• 


A  LEGEND  OF  M-DE-A-TON-KA, 


41 


bridge.  When  the  good  Indian  dies,  he  passes  over  the 
bridge  in  safety  into  the  happy  hunting  ground,  but 
when  the  bad  Indian  dies,  the  spirits  grease  the  tree, 
and  he  falls  mto  the  stream  below.  These  Indians  did 
a  wanton,  cruel  wrong,  and  are  reaping  their  reward." 

Min-ne-too-ka's  eyes  sparkled  with  excitement;  the 
warm  tJoo^^^ushed  through  the  tawny  skin  of  her 
cheek,  and  her  little  frame  quivered,  as  she  exclaimed : 
"  I  see  clearly ;  I  see  it  all ;  I  will  obey  your  bidding ; 
I  will  consecrate  myself  to  the  wishes  of  my  spirit 
friends,  but  oh,  remove  that  horrible  scene."  The  chief 
gave  a  wave  of  his  hand  and  the  picture  disappeared, 
and  all  was  again  damp,  and  dark,  and  clammy,  and 
desolate.  - 

"Come,"  said  the  chief.  "Come,"  said  War-ka-non, 
looking  down  into  the  face  of  his  now  more  than  ever 
lovely  Indian  expectant  bride,  "come,  go  with  us;" 
and  they  struck  into  a  small  trail  that  led  out  from  the 
city  of  the  dead  tq^the  banks  of  the  lake  and  into  the 
pure  sunshine,  where  the  birds  were  singing,  the  ducks 
were  flying,  the  deer  were  bounding,  the  flowers  were 
blooming,  the  trees  nodding,  and  the  gentle  breeze,  as 
it  came  from  off  the  lake,  cooled  the  feverish  brow  of 
the  Indian  gh"!  as  she  followed  her  spirit  guides.  They 
passed  westward  to  the  extreme  chain  of  lakes,  ascended 
gradually  a  hill  covered  with  tall,  noble  trees,  wound 
down  around  the  b|w^f  a  mound,  at  the  base  of 
which,  nestling  in  a  bower  of  beauty,  and  close  to  a 
rippling  stream,  were  several  Indian  tepees. 

"  Go  in  among  your  Sioux  friends  and  seek  rest," 
said  her  companions,  pointing  to  the  scene  below,  and 
then  they  instantly  disappeared^^  ~~  •  '    ■ 

Min-ne-too4ca  approached  the  Indian  settlement  with 


fy-i 


y.^4xA.  iki&s 


E^&A  .^  I  n      r  r^mgit^ 


•iftj^i^  ■  pf^mf^j?^. 


42 


MIN-NE-TOO-KA. 


:jj:. 


great  timidity,  was  met  cautiously,  told  her  story,  was 
cordfally  greeted  and  -hospitably  entertained ;  and  here, 
amid  all  this  regal  beauty  of^^natufe's  grandest  handi* 
work,  with  the  charm  of  a  quiet  retreat,  with  conscious- 
ness that  she  was  beyond  the  reach  of  harm,  the  poor, 
weary,  hungry,  desolate  orphan  Indian  girl  found  many 
hours  of  unalloyed  pleasure,  and  peace,  and  happiness* 
The  old  chief,  who  thus  graphically  gave  me  this 

-narrative,  stopped  several  times  in  the  course  of  his 
story,  poked  the  embers  of .  the  smoldering  fire,  refilled ' 
his  pipe,  gave  several  "  ughs,'*  and  seemed  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate/ Min-ne-too-ka. 

"Over  there,"  .said  the  "chief,  pointing  to  the  east 
side  of  the  lake,  "was  the  home  of  the  Chippewas.  • 
Early  in  the  day  of  one  beautiful  May  morning,  a 
Sioux  maiden  made  her  way  toward  their  camp,  well 
knowing  that  if  once  discovered  her  temerity  would 
cost  her  her  life.  As  she  approached  ^  tepee,  inhabited 
only  by  three  of  her  own  sex,,  her  courage  failed ;  she 
paused,  and  turned  to  retrace  her  steps,  when  a  Chip- 
pewa brave  stood  before  her.  It  was  the  spirit  form 
of  War-ka-non. 

^<  Why  falters  Min-ne-too-ka?"  he  asked.    "  No  harm 
comes  to  Min-ne-too-ka.     Her  duty  performed,  she  will 
join  War-ka-non  in  the  happy-hunting  ground." 
-  Min-ne-too-ka  was  surprised,  awed  into  silence,  and,^ 

*  feeling  that  she  had  not  shown  the  fai£h  she  ought;  to, 
have  done  in  her  noble  and  devoted  lover — for^she 
h|ad  now  become  dearly  attached  to  him— exclaimed : 
"  I  will  never  falter  again ;  thy  will  shalLbe  done,"  and 
pressed  forward  to  the  camp  of  her  inveterate 


camp 


enemy. 


I- 


Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  Chippewa  women  re- 
ceived her,  not,  however,  without  great  caution,  and  on 


r«^.  i 


V 


.^i^l&s^^^ 


A  LEGEND  OF  M-DE-A-TON-KA. 


the  return  of  the  warriors  a  council  was  held  as  to  her 
ate     Why  let  a  single  member  of  their  hateA  tribe 
,ve?  \The  councU  decided  she  should  die     Mm-ne- 
ookaWed   one  request-that   she  might   appear 
among  tht^pewa  braves  and  demonstrate  that  she 
was  innocenT^U  harm.    The  request  was  granted, 
Ind  the  next  morSng  the  young  girl  stood  m  the  pres- 
ence  of  her  savageWs,  and  told  them  how  she  had 
be  n  saved  by  Waka-non-how  .^^e  loved  W„J^, 
„on-how  the  great  spirit  had  come  to  her-had  shown 
her;the  happy  hunting-ground-how  the  fate  of  the 
murderers  had  been  pictured,  and  in  most  e  oquent  . 
Tones,  begged  of  the  warriors  to  drop  the  war^lub,  the, 
s  a^p inginife.  and  the  tomahawk,  and  deal  justly  and 
Lly  with  their  eriemy.    She  impressed  upon  them  the   , 
sue  fate  of  their  bad  acts-the  reward  of  their  good 
deeds,  and  so  wrought  upon  their  savage  hearts  that 
theybegan  to  relent,  when,  in  a  moment,  War-ka-non 
stood  by  her  side.    When  the  Indians  saw  him  they 
a  1  fell  to  the  ground,  for  they  knew  it  was  his  spin  . 

He  said:  "My  people,  you  know  War-ka-non!  I 
come  fiom  the  spirit  land.  I  saw  Mm-ne-too-ka^^  I 
loved  kin-ne-too-ka.  She  comes  to  you  to  -mpress 
Vou  with  the  necessity  of  good  deeds.  The  great 
C-Uou  and  War-ka-non  are  the  friends  of  the  one 
Indian  girl.  Would  yoiT  take  her  innocent  ife? 
Would  you  still  make  more  crimson  the  nver  of  blood 
,  that  flows  at  your  feet?  My  P-P"-'  >"=  8°°'^_J^,>' 
peoplK  hi  just.    My  people,  be  kind     My  people, 

hearkS^unto  tlie  voice  of  Mi>'-"^-t°°:''jJ  .      .^i^ 

T„   .H   .n^tant  he  was  gone,  and    eft    he   Indum 

,      maiden  standing  alone  in  the  council  ol  ^Ub.  eiicui>, 


.i' 


■M--'^ 


sr- 


MIN-NE-TOO-KA. 


With  their  heads  bowed  to  the  earth  and  trembling 
with  fear.        .  -  --  °'' 

^  The  morning  dawned,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  whole 
band  of  Chippewas-men,  women,  and  children,  who 
then  occupied  the  eastern  portion  of  the  lake-stood 
Mm-ne-too-ka.    Hatred  had  turned  to  love-to  adora- 
tion-to  worship-and  there,  in  the  -presenee  of  nhat 
timid  gid,  and  in  the  presence  of  th^  great  spirit,  the 
Indians  resolved  on  a  new  and  a  better  life;  and  from 
.  that   day  to  this,  said  the  old   chief,  .the  Chippewa 
Jiation  have  been  firm  friends  of  the  whites,  and  brave 
humane  enemies  of  the  Sioiix. 
J' You  see  that  t^ll,  high"  knoll  over  there?"  said  the 

^^^What,  the  highest  point  cti  the  lake?"  I  iked. 

"Well,  tradition  has  it  that  the  next  day  after  the 
marvelous  meeting  I  have  described,  War-ka-non  and 
Min-ne-too-ka  werK.seen  on  the  top  of  that  knoll,  and 
then,  clasped  together,  they  rose  high  \in  the  air  and 
floated  over  thel^ake  i^  the  plain  view,  of  hundreds  of 
.spectators,^'  and  finajly  entered  the  hljjpy  hunting- 
ground ;  and  from  that  day  to  this  it  hai  been  called 
l^omt  Wa-kan,  or  the  Supernatural,  antf  is  held  in 
sacred  memory  by  the  Indians  of  both  tribes  " 

It  is  thought,  by  many,  that  the  lake  derived  its 
name  f^om  this  beau^fuF  Indian  girl,  whb,  though  left 
an  oiphan  and  sorely  tried  by  a  series  of'  misfortunes, 
was  finally  united  to  her  devoted  lover,  and  together 
they  jomed  their  many  fri^s  in  that  peaceful  land 
beyond  the  river  of  death.  And  thus^  Mimne-too-ka 
-be€dme^ltn^tK>lort.ka,  or  ijfeautiful  Water..       "~ — 


•imiiitiSitis^Sii^: 


t* 


THRILLING   ^CENES    AND    ADVENT- 
URES AMbNG  THE  INDIANS. 


IT  was  a  beautifiil  morning  in  June,  1863,  when  I 
asked  the  comipander  at  our  post  for  a  detail  of  a 
company  of  men,  livith  a  captain,  to  acccompany  me 
across  the  river  toi  a  place  called  Beaver  Greek,  where 
a  whole  white  settlement  had  been  cruelly  massacred 
by  the  Indians  th^  year  before.  This  camp  had  been 
established  for  thfc  collection  of  troops  to  compose  an 
expedition  aggitnst  the  Indians  and  drive  them  across 
the  Missouri  rivef.  My  object  in  making  the  trip  was 
to  gather  infornVation  as  to  the  amount  of  hay,  com 
and  oats  available  for  camp  purposes,  as  I  knew  the 
Government  wduld  pay  the  heirs  of  the  dead  parties 
for  losses  incurred  in  the  Indian  raid,  and  that  it  was 
quite  proper  it-'  should  have  the  effects  left  behind  by 
the  unfortunate  victims,  to  use  for  the  tropps  then  in 
the  field.  Thfe  morning  was  bright  and  glorious,  and 
the  compan^/T  had  asked  for  was  early  on  hand,  the 
men  happy  fn  the  thought  of  getting  out  of  the  dull 
routine  of  famp  life,  and  eager  to  encounter  any  danger 
which  might  present  itself.  With  an  admonition  from 
the  -commander  of  the  garrison  to  keep  together  and 
w^tch  ^very  sign  of  danger  {for  the  hostile  Sioux  were 
constantly  hovering  about  us),  the  boys  were  ferried 
across  the  river  to  th?  east  side,  and  w<^und  up  the  hill 
to  the  plateau,  which  on  the  right  stretched  off  into  an 
unlimited  prairicj,  and  bn  the  left  was  belted  by  woods, 
in  which  4i€td  been  a  settlement  of  some  thirteen  white 

45 


^1. 


5^1 


'sM: 


"^mmfmmmmftHlfli 


4^  THRILLING  SCENES  AND  ADVENTURES 


a-O^T- 


families    now  all   dead!-the  victims  of  savage  bru- 
tahty!     It  .was  my  original  pul-pose  to' go  direct  to 
Beaver  Creek  with  the  men,  but  learning  that  one  of 
the  soldiers  had  bee^  in  the  campaign  against  the  Indi- 
ans the  year  preyiously,  and  that  he  knew  the  ground 
covered  by  the  timber,  I  concluded  to  send  Captain  T 
and  his  company  across  the  prairie  to  the  creek,  and 
retain  two  men  and  reconnoitre  for  a  short  distance 
m  the  woods,  promising  that  in  ah  hour  or  so  I  would 
join  the  command  where  another  settlement  had  existed 
but  which  was  now  silent  under  the  murderous  attack 
of  the  savage  foe..     The  soldiers  were  soon  on  their' 
tramp  across  the  plain,  and  with  the  two  Ihad  chosen 
to  accompany  me,  is^e  turned  and  entered  the  point  of 
woods  that  skirted  the  river,  and  wound  our  way  up  t^ 
a  small  log  house,  dimly  Seenamong  the  trees.     Just 
before  reaching  it  was  a  clearing,  made  by  the  former 
mdustrious,  hardy  pioneer,  whose  plow  stood  in  the  fur- 
roi^st  where  it  was  left  when  he  was  struck  down 
by    !he    infuriated    Indians.      Here   was    his    broad- 
brimmed  hat,  cleft  in  two  by  the  tomahawk;  here  was 

tlf      Lr^"'"u!'^''    ^'''  ^^^  '^'  P^-'  ^-"ered 
coat,  riddled  with  bullet  holes.     We  approached  th(P 

house.    The  doors  were  shattered;  the  windows  weri 

•  .  u  ^^r  '"''''^'  ""^^^  ^  ^^^"^•'  Here  the  pooi 
victims  had  fought  desperately  for  their  lives.  Broken 
chairs  broken  tables,  fragments  of  dresses,  aficN>lood- 
stained  floors  clearly  indicated  how  dreadful  had  been 
!L  fj  ,  ^^!  P'^"^^^  ^«  '^^^  his  wife  and  little  ones 
f  V  u  "''J^''  °^  '^'  ^^^^^^  ^^"^^"^  ^ho  panted 
Z  I  T.!^^^^,^-  .  ^^'^'  ^^^>  .^'^  fo"nd  feathers  from 


ripped  open  in  search  oTtreas- 


•ure.     The  hay  and  oats  stood   in   the  stacks  unmo. 


'-#f 


.A 


«7  ^^  "    ^  ■?''  .^ 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


47 


■i; 


leste^  Jl^he  houses  werg  grim  and  silent !  All  was  still, 
except  the  moaning  of  the  wind  as  it  swept  through 
the  i^ee-tops,  and  sun^'i'fr  mourmful  dirge  over  the 
lame|(t4d  dead. 

Irtt(?reste(i  ,in  these  horrible  scenes,  we  pushed  on  to 
th^  n6xt  house,  where  we  found   a  similar  state  of  ^ 
affairs,,  only  with  this  exception  that,  in  lifting  up  a 
sciittlkdoor  leading  into  the  cellar,  we  beheld  a  ghastly- 
skeleton  of  a  little  child,  the  living  body  of  which  had 
no  doubt  been  put  there  by  its  fond  parent  for  safe-^ 
l^eeping,  but  whose  little  form  had  wasted  away  by 
starvation.      Its  mother  never  returned.     Again,  we 
pushed  on  to  the  third  house,  forgetting  thfe"  promise 
to  Captain  T.  to  be  with  him  in  an  hour  or  so,  but 
deeply  interested  in  all  we  saw,  when/recalling  the  fact 
thajt  we  must  join  our  main  body  of  men  before  dark, 
we  retraced  our  steps  and  struck  out  on  to  the  prairie 
in  a  direction,  we  thought,  which  led  to  Beaver  Creek. 
On  we  traveled,  with  nothing  to  guide  us,  not  even  a 
twig  as  big  as  the  finger  of  a  man's  hand,  until  we  had 
made  some  three  miles,  when,  conscious  that  we  were , 
lost,  that  it  was  useless  to  proceed  any  further,  we  came 
back  into  the  woods,  mortified  at  the  blunder  we  had 
made.     It  was  now  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  Jt  would  be  impossible  to  reach  the  creek  in  time 
to  intercept  Captain  T.,  so  I' decided,  as  we\  di^  not 
know  where  we  were,  to  make  the  most  of  it,  go  back 
to  our  original  starting  point,  and  proceed  with  my 
investigations  in  the  be;lt  of   woods  that  skirted  the 
river.     House  after  house  was  passed  and  inspected, 
when  we  came  to  a  ravine  leading  down  to  the  river's 
edge.     Here  Was  pointed   out  to  me^^  by  one  of  the 
men,  the  spot  where  thirteen  inhabitants  had  bec» 


^.^i 


'&■' 


48 


4- 


THRILLING  SCENES  AND  ADVENTURES 

1 


came  across  Semi   If"     '*"''  ''""^  *•"""  P^"*  -« 

.  no  aoubt  ^^:::^:i  ^;zz;:^^^  ^^^ 

vious  vBar  ^^  c  •.  -  '  expedition  the  pre- 
vious year,  and,  after  viewing  it,  we  Da'.i.!e^  •  „„  j 
came  to  the  last  house  in  the  belt    Tn  rt?t  "''  • 

wooden  shoes   rrnH.         \  "'^  ''°"«c  were 

clearly  shtwit  that  thT     "7"''"''  "°°''^"  "'«'>^-. 
all  was  stm-fll  tV      '""'''"'^^'e  foreigners;  but 

work  nios  LIS  To"      \  TT'^'^  ^°"^  """^ 
that  twilight  eveS^  ''  *''  '"""^" "^ 

are  in  th.        "f  '"'"'«  ^'Stance,  "we  are  lost!     We 

*ad  scrape"    n^^^  ^V^p'^^l  f^f  ^V"" 

no  weapon   with   rt^e    Z^  All  right?    J-  have 

•    ,   ^  "^^>   "ot   even   a  Distnlf"     «xt 

^^r^i?.^  siVoLfeVhi' "^^ 
or  jtrr.  VaTTt'u-s  'srha^n]?^^  -' 

to  leave  the  main  command,     if  ti,  se  two  h       'T? 

deathsfand     henT  T""   "^ --"Possible  for  thei^ 

would  be  considered    ^'^'"  '°  ''""'^  ^°^  f°°«^'>  I 
veo- higrSX^reZ;*  "f ;•• -"ght  up  tp  a 

t..eydiansandsa::th:^^r4:r::t;; 


■r 


"^"^^  ^^"^^  ^^""^  ^'■^  '""^'  and  thi^w 


'  4.^f 


'^     '  '  AMONG  THE  INDMNS. 


40 


a  glinter  across  the  prairie,  when  I  said  to  >fo{in,  "Go 
out  carefully  on  to  the  plain;  look  in  ev^ry  direction 
and  mark  what  you  see,  for  we  must  make  our  way 
out  from  here  immediately,  and  creep  along  to  where 
we  first  entered  the  timber.  Say  nothing,  but  report 
privately  to  me."  While  he  was  gone,  I  ascended  a 
gradual  rise  of  ground,  and  with  my  eye  swept  the 
'horizon.  Just  ofif  to  the  right  I  thought  I  saw  an 
Indian  head  bob  upu,  and  down,  but  dismissed  the 
matter  from  my  mind  as  a  part  of  a  distorted  imagina- 
tion. John  soon  returned,  and,  in  a  cool,  yet  decided 
tone,  informed  me  that  he  saw  a  human  being's  head 
p?ep  up  just  over  the  little  rise  at  the  left.  "All  right, 
my  boy,"  I  remarked;  "take  up  a  position  over  there 
and  listen ;  tell  me  if  you  hear  anything."  Calling 
Bill,  who  was  as  true  and  trusty  as  Tsteel,  I  said:  "Go 
out  cautiously  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile;  watch  every 
point  of  the  compass,  return,  and  tell  me  what  you 
see."  Snathe  meantime  I  chose  what  I  considered  the 
best  place  to  get  out  on  the  prairie,  for  if  we  were 
watched  we  would'  be  obliged  to  leave  the  timber  at 
once.  Returning,  Bill  gave^he  same  information  as 
John;  so,  cautioning  the  boys  to  keep  quiet,  mark 
every  noise,  and  let  nothing  escape  their  attention,  I 
ventured  out  myself,  and  true  enough,  just  over  the 
brow  of  a  little  hill,  an  Indian  €ould  be  plainly  seen  to 
rise,  then  dodge,  then  run  and  dodge  again.  We  were 
watched  by  the  enemy .^ 

"Boys,  examine  your  guns!  See  if  they  .are  all 
right;  Look  to  your  ammunition.  Keep  cool.  Dark- 
ness is  coming,  and  with  it  the  red  devils.    We  must 


CTawt  OUT  from  here  under  the  cover  of  nightTS^then 
make  our  way,  as  best  we  can,  toward  the  river,  %  I 


^ 


> 


-v^SS;■ 


\ 


50 


THRILLING  SCENES  AND  ADVENTURES 


^i 


am  satisfied  the  Indians  are  on  our  track."     Each  one- 
separated  from  the  other,  and  worked  his  way  on  to 
the  prairie,  fortunately  to  a  ravine,  made  by  the  watef 
in   the  spring.     In   this  ravine  and   under  its  banks 
several  places  had  been  worn  out  by  the  rain,  and  into 
these  places,  separately,  we  all  crept,  pulling  the  tall, 
dead  grass  over  us,  thus  shielding 'ourselves  from  obser- 
vation.     Soon  we  could  hear  the  dull,  heavy  tread  of 
the  Indians— some  ten  in  number— and  then  the  sound 
came  nearer  and  nearer;  then  it  echoed  in  the  woods; 
then  it  came  again  out  on  to  the  prairie ;  then  it  dreW 
still  nearer;  then  we  could  hear  the  enemy  talking; 
and  I  overheard,  in  Indian,  the  remark,  "they  must  be 
here."  'Then  the  heavy  tread  of  a  warrior  came  within 
two  feet  of  where' I  lay.  -He  stopped ;  he  listened.     I 
did  not  breathe.   .  Cold  perspiration  came  out  all  over 
me.     He  poked  his  gup  within  a  foot  of  my  body. 
He  peeked  into  the  hiding  places  of  my  comrades,  and 
then,  as  if  satisfied,  gave  a  grunt  and  sullenly  joined 
his  companions,  who  were  only  ten  feet  off,  in  consulta- 
tion as  to  what  they  should  do.     We  had  foiled  the 
Indians,  inasmuch  as  we  had  crawled  upon  our  stom- 
achs  and  left  no  footprints  behind,  and  yet  any  minute 
might  reveal  our  hiding  places.     Such  agony  of  sus- 
penser  Such  a  moment  of  life!    We  heard  the  well- 
known  savage  word,  "marshon,"  and  then  one  after 
another  they  fell  into  line,  and  their  steady  tread  gr«w 
fainter  and  fainter,  until  entirely  lost  to  the  ear.     Not 
a  word  had  been  spokon;  not  a  quiver  made;  still  as 
deatl^  we  lay  in  our  places,  as  if  on  the  verge  of  the 
grave.  JWe  did  not  dare  to  move  or  speak,  for  we 
^^^w  IhdiandLarartpr  wf  II  f  nough  ta  be  as»ui:e4  that 
one  ofjtheir  number  might  be  just  over  us,  and  instant 


#- 


r-2^§^. 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


SI 


death  follow.  Thirty  minutes  had  elapsed,  but  not  a 
word  had  been  uttered,  when  I  essayed,  in  a  faint 
voice,  to  call,  "  Bill  ?  "  "  All  right,"  said  Bill.  «  John  ?  " 
"  Steady,"  was  the  reply.  We  crept  out  slyly ;  gazed 
into  the  darkness ;  put  our  ears  to  the  ground ;  moved 
cautiously  forward,  paused,  listened,  and  then  satisfied 
that  our  path  was  clear,  made  our  way  back  to  the  old 
house  in  the  woods,  secreted  ourselves  until  morning, ; 
and  then  a  new  surpripe  met  us  in  the  neigh  of  Indian  / 
ponies.  Bill  discovered,  however,  that  these  ponies 
were  neitheX  saddled  nor  bridled,  and  all  at  once  it 
daubed  upon\  our  brains  that  we  must  be  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  our  friendly  Indian  scouting  camp.  Leaving  our 
hiding-pla(ies,  we  ascended  a  small  mound  about  iialf  a^^ 
mile  in  the  distance,  and  there  just  beyond  we  saw 
the  stockade  of  our  scouts,  and  in  a  blessed  few  min- 
utes after  we  were  inside  the  inclosure,  tlie  guests  c^f 
our  trusty  dusky  friends,  who  laughe^  heartily  over  the\ 
story  we  told  of  our  hair-breadth  escape  from  the  sav- 
age foe.  Night  passed,  and  at  early  morning,  knowing 
full  well  that  the  camp  would  be  in  great  commotion  if 
we  did  not  make  our  appearance,  we  mounted  Indian 
ponies,  and  accompanied  by  two  friendly  Indian  guides, 
started  off  in  a  brisk  gallop  for  the  river,  hailed  the 
ferryman,  was  conveyed  across,  and  entered  the  camp 
just  as  the  troops  were  leaving  in  every  direction  to 
search  for  our  dead  bodies.  Mounted  men  were  imme- 
diately sent  out  to  recall  the  soldiers,  hundreds  of 
"boys  in  blue"  gathered  about  us  to  hear  our  story, 
and  to  all  appearances  there  was  great  rejoicing  over 
the  fact  that  the  Commissary  and  Quartermaster  of  the 


post  and  hii  two  faithful  mai  had  fefurn#t6  the  caMp 
safe  and  sound. 


ft  «■  ci- 


.'0 


^ 


-M* 


■...•.-  tm.'^  .tine  ~Wi  t-;  - 


'■i'»-P 


52  THRILLING  SCENES  AND  ADVENTURES 

The  next  day  Bill  came  to  me  and  asked  for  a  piece 
of  planed  board,  about  four  feet  high  by  one  and  a  half 
wide.     "  No,"  J  said,  "  Bill,  I  tan't  let  you   have  it. 
There  are  nearly  four  thousand  soldiers  in  camp,  and  as 
6very  man  wants  a  piece  of  board,  by  granting  their 
requests  I  won't  have  lumber  enough  to  build  with." 
As  he  turned  to  go  away,  I  noticed  a  peculiar  sadness 
on  his  countenance,  and  I  called  him  back.    "What  do 
you  want  this  board  for  ?  "     He  replied,  "  You  remem- 
ber  the  dead  body  of  that  woman  we  saw  yesterday?  " 
"Yes."  V  "You  remember  I  exanhined  the  ring  on  her 
finger,  her  teeth,  her"  dress?"     "Yes."     "Well    that 
was  my  mothef!"     "Your  mother!  how  in  heaven  is 
that  ?       "  Well,  my  parents  lived  here  before  I  entered 
the  army.     Last  year  we  found  all  my  family  dead  but 
my^nother.     She  must  have  made  an  effort  to  fly  was 
shot  where  she  fell,  and  her  body  has  remained  until 
yesterday  undiscovered.     I  want  the^oard  to  place  at 
the  head  of  her  grave  when  I  pury<her !  "    The  appeal 
was  so  touching,  that  I  ordeifd  my  carpenter  to  make 
the  board ;  Bill  lettered  it,  and  the  next  day,  in  com- 
pany with  ten  well-arme«|||fen,  he  repaired  to  the  spot 
Where  his  mother  mM6r  death,  buried  the  body,  and 
returned  to  his  duty  With  a  solemn  resolution  to  avenge 
th^  murder  of  his  ^ole  family,  even  if  it  shoulfl  take 
a  lifetime.    He  f^thfully  kept  his  resolution,  for,  years 
afterward,  whe|i;l  met. him,  just  returned  from   the 
frontier,  he  assured  me  he  had  killed  twenty  Indians 
and  was  good  for  twenty  more.     Who  could  blame 
him? 

A  recent_wrftgr,  speaking  of  this  same  man. 


says 


"  Comhianche  Bill,,  or  William  Porter,  is,  forty-seven 
years  of  age,  but  looks  much  younger.    H^e  wears  the 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


53 


proverbial  long  hair,  cropped  closer  behind  than  many 
who  affect  this  style.  He  is  not  over  five  feet  ten 
inches  in  height,  with  a  broad  chest  and  brawny  arms^ 
and  an  iron  frame,  which  fatigue  cannot  overcome  nor 
exertion  subdue.  He  is  taciturn  almost  to  a  fault,  and 
lotirTo  speak  of  himself.  In  the  far  West  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  guide,  scout  and  interpreter,  is  great,  and  he 
looks  with  scorn  on  lesser  luminaries  and  other  would- 
be  heroes." 

William  Porter  was  bom  of  Scotch  parents,  in  Iowa, 
removed  to  Minnesota,  abov^  New  Ulm,  and  lived 
there  until  the  troublesome  times  of  1862,  when  his 
whole  family  was  massacred.  ^ 

"  Haven't  you  a  sister  yet  living  in  Minnesota? - 

"  Thar  ain't  a  drop  of  my  blood  flowin'  in  the  veins 
of  any  living  human  bein',"  was  the  sad  response.  He 
then  told  the  story  of  the  massacre  of  his  mother  and 
sister,  and  the  eyes  of  the  sturdy  plainsman  were  suf- 
fused with  something  which  looked  like  tears. 

"  I  tell  you  it's  enough  to  make  a  man  a  demon,"  he 
said ;  "  father,  mother,  aster,  two  cousins,  an  unclci 
aunt  aad  wife  killed,  at  one  blow.  I  remember  that 
little  mother;  she  wan't  bigger'n  your  fist,  and  she 
loved  me' as  a  Scotch  mother  can  love.  She  used  to 
say  to  father ;  *  William's  getting  too  big  for  you  to 
handle,'  but  she  could  do  sftiything  with  me.  I  remem- 
ber she  came  to  me  and  said :  '  Well,  there's  a  kiss 
from  your  mithei",  lad,*  and  when  I  came  back  she  lay 
killed  by  them  red  devils.  I  tell  you,  boys,  it  made  a 
demon  but  of  me,"  and  the  strong  man  pressed  his 


<^ 


f. 


'p^ 


wild  gesture  in  the  agony  of  the  awful  revelation. 
"Who  yiled  your  mother,  Bilir*  ._.._..__.,^ i_^ 


T, 


U 


U 


it 


54  THRII^UNG  SCENES  AND  ADVENTURES. 

^*  It  was  one  of  OT  Nose's  band." 
Is  he  alive  yet  ?  " 

Well,  I  gues^  he  will  never  scalp  any  more  women." 
'  Did  they  kill  your  wife,  too  ?  "  i 

"  Yes ;  they  tortured  her  to  death  I  Oh !  I've  had  a 
scalp  for  every  drop  of  blood  they  spilled  that  day.  I 
took  an  oath  that  as  long,  as  I  could  look  through  the 
hind  sight  of  a  rifle,  I'd  kill  every  Sioux  I  got  a  chance 
to  shoot  at,  and  you  bet  I  have  kept  my  oath." 

And  this  was  Bill,  one  of  the  men  who  was  with  the 
writer  and  crawled  out  on  to  the  prairie,  and  saw  that 
Indian  head  bobbing  up  and  down,  and  who  subse- 
quently arrived,  with  the  author,  safe  in  camp.  He 
has  kept  his  oath,  fbr  he  has  killed  not  less  than  twenty- 
five  Indians,  and,  under  all  the  circumstances,  who  can 
blame  him  ? 


»,• 


,W- 


■•-   I 


M- 


% 


MAIDEN  ROCK; 

OR,  "THE   lover's  LEAP." 

''OINCE  my  remembrance,"  said  an  old  Chief  to 

v^  Major  Long,  in  the  year  i860,  a  large  part  of  the  ■ 
Sioux  Indians  of  La  Feuelle's  band,  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  nnaking  annual  visits  from  the  river  St.  Peter 
to  Prairie  du  Chieti.  When  the  party  in  q1ie«tion  ar- 
rived at  the  hill,  now  called  the  Lover's  Leap,  or, 
more-  properly.  Maiden  Rock,  they  stopped  ttf  gather 
blue  clay,  which  is  found  near  the  foot  of  the  hill,  for 
the  pi\i»Dse  of  painting  themselves.  Of  this  party  was 
thiB||king  Indian  maiden  who  is  the  subject  of  this 

^She  had  for  a  long  time  received  the  addressed  df  a 
young  hunter,  who  had  formed  an  unconquerable  at- 
tachment for  her,  and  for  whom  she  entertained  the 
strongest  affection.  Her  parents  and  brothers^  were 
strenuously  opposed  to  herc|^oice  an^  warmly  seconded .. 
the  solicitations  of  a  young'wairrior,  who  was  very  much* 
beloved  by  the  Indian  nation,  foi;  his  bravery  and  other 
good  qualities,  To  obviate  her  objection  to  the  war- 
rior as  being  destitute  of  the  means  of  clothing  and 
feeding  her  in  consequence  of  the  life  he  must  lead  in 
order  to  perform  the  duties  of  his  profession,  her  broth- 
ers agreed  to  be  at  the^expense  of  providing  everything 
that  was  necessary  for  the  ease  and  comfort  of  a  fam- 
ily,  and  presented  them  to  the  young  warrior.    This 


they  did  on  the  day  of  their  -Arrival  at  the  fatal  spot, 
with  the  hope  ttiat  their  sister  WQ»^  readily  be  pre- 


^W^^F^I^   -i^*^    '    J^ik.'^  n. 


'^ 


t; 


.1^^^^ 


56 


MAIDEN  ROGK; 


yelled  upon  to  marry  the  youiig  man  whom  all  her  ok* 
jections  to  were  thus   obviated.     She  still  persisted  , 
however,  in  the  determinktion  never  to  marry  any  but 
the  object  of  her  sincere  affection,  while  her  parents 
and  bnjthers  finding  they  could  not  accomplish  their 
purposfby  gentle  means,  began to.treat  her  with  sever: 
ity.     They  msisted  upon  her  compliance  with  their 
wishes,  still  summbning  the  argument  of  filial  duty  and 
affection  in  aid  of  their,  cause.  -She  replied:  "I  do  not 
Jove  the  -tidier  and  would  live  single  forever  rather 
than  marry  himf    You  call  me  daughter  and  sister,  as 
If  this  should  induce  me  to  marry  the  man  of  your 
choice  and  not  my  own.     You  say  you  love  me,  yet  you 
have  driven  the  only  man  that  can  make  me  happy,  far 
from  me.     He  loved  me,  but  you  would  not  let  us  be 
ha|,py  together.     He  has  therefore  left  me ;  he  has  left 
his  parents  and  all  his  friends  and  gone  to  bewail  in  the' 
woods.    He  cannot  partake  of  thfe  pleasure  of  this  party.  ^ 

J^l   u.  """^^^"^  ''"^  '"^"i"-    Y^"  ^^e  not  satisfied 
with  all  this.    «^ouh^ve  not  made  me  miserable  enough. 

,  You  would  now  compd  me  to  marry  a.man  I  do  not 

love.    Smce  this  is  your  purpose,  let  it  be  so.    You 

will  soon  have  no  daughter  or  sister  to  torment  or 

beguile  with  your  false  professions  of  love." 

^  The  same  day  was  fixed  upon  as  the  day  of  her  mar- 

riage  with  the  war;;ior;  and  the  Indians  were  busily  oc- 

cupied  in  getting  cjay  and,  painting  themselves  prepar- 

iitory  for  the  ndptial  ceremony.    She,  in  the  meantime, 

walked  aside   rom  the  rest  of  the  party,  ascended  to  the     ' 

-top  of  the  hill  known  as  Maiden  Rock,  located  on  the 


broihers  upbraiding  them  for  their  unkind  treatment : 
Tou  j^fused  to  leUne  margr  j^^^bl^  to  mf  owt^ 


'4k 


"iw»a 


»'-^      ,« 


OR,  THE  lover's  LEAP. 


57 


You  then  endeavored  by  artifice  to  unite  me 
tb  af  man  I. cannot  Jove,  and  now  you  will  force  me  to 
marry  him  whether  I  will  or  not.  You  thought  to  allure 
and  make  me  wretched,  but  you;  shall  be  disappointed." 
Hei;  parents,  laware  of  her  design  to  throw  herself  over 
the  precipice,  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  hiH  ^nd  entreated 
her  to  desist,  with  all  the  tenderiiess  and  concern  that 
parental  fondness  could  suggest,' tearing  their  hair  and 
bewailing  in  the  bitterest  manner,  while  her  brothers 

,  attempted  to  gain  the  summit  before  shq  should  exe- 
cute her  fatal  purppse.  But  all  in  vain.  She  was  de- 
termined and  resolute.  She  cdfl[imenced  singing  her  , 
death  song,  and  immediately  threw  herself  headlong 
down  the  precipice,  preferring  certain  and  instantan- 
eous death  to  a  lingering  state  of  unhappy  wedlock. 
And  thus  c6mes  the  tradition  of  "  Maiden  ROck,  or 
Lover's  Leap."  ,  .-    «     ••     ':>     . 

I  learn  from  other  sources^outsiderisf  the  Chief's  nar- 
rative, as  given  by  Major  Long,  that- when  the  {luiiter- 
lover,  Kad-da-lus-ka,  heard  of  the  tragic  death  of  We- 
no-na,he  reciprocated  her  devotion  by  jumping  into  thi^ 
river, v,and  according  to  Indian  belief^  passed  s^ely^pvei* 
the  barrier  of  deaths  and  the  two  loVers  were  sten  after- 
ward  by  their  friends,  traveling  hand  in  hand  in  the 
happy  hunting  ground.    -  .      *,.    '      -      ',' ' 

It  is  alleged  by  parties  who  have  «jmaiiie4  ^it-the 
foot  of  Maiden  Rock  all  night,  that  q,b6ut  twelve  o'clock 
a  low,  plaintive  wdil^  is  heard,  at  first  almost  inaudible, 
but  spion  after  gathering  in  volume,  the  sound  breaks 

^  out  into  a  wild,  unearthly  song,  which  floats  out  on  to 
the  water  and  reverbertitfiH  arponfT  ^^^  hilU,  And^ffn-A- 


slight,  beautiful  fftnale  figure  appears  on  the  top  of  the 
rock,  and  swaying  to  %a^^  for  a  few  momuus,  keep- 


53 


MAIDEN  ROCK. 


mg  time  with  her  voice,  it  plunges  suddenly  fieadfore, 
most,  and  then^  sickehing  thug  sound  i^  heard,  and  all     . 
IS  still!    One  of  the  earliest  and  perhaps  o#  of  the  ^ 
best  Authenticated  Iridiin  legends,  is  that  of  Maiden 
Rock. 


1 1 


s       .  ( 


'  I 


-'■'  > 


"fc 


^afefejLf 


LAKE  PEPIN  AND  ITS  SCENERY; 

LAKE  PEPIN  is  a  body  of  water  in  the  Missis- 
>  sippi  river — in  fact  the  lake  is  merely  a  distension 
of  the  river-^some  five  miles  wide  and  some  twenty- 
five  miles  long.  Wabashaw  is  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
lake,  and  is  noted  in  Indian  history  as  a  favorite  place 
of  the  Sioux,  where,  under  the  leadership  of  their 
chief  after  whom  the  city  is  named,  they  held  their 
councils,  delar^d  their  wars,  smoked  the^ir  pipes,  uttered . 
their  outbursts  of  eloquence,  .danced  theit  dances,  and 
otherwise  made  it  the  elegant  capital  of  their  people. 
Front^nac  is  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  looking  but 
frofh  this  charming  spot,  the  eye  pf  the  traveler  rests 
upon  some  of  the  grandest;,  scenery  in  the  world.  We 
not  only  find  many  traces  of  the  existence  of  Indians 
above  Lak6  Pepin,  but  we  find  many  relics  of  a  people 
far  older  than  even  the  red  men  themselves— the 
mound  builders  of  a  pre-historic  age.  "indeed,.!  am 
told,  that  in  a  mound  I  visited  som6  three  hundred  feet 
above  the  Mississippi  river,  below  Winona,  the  bones 
of  a  gigantic  warrior  w^r6  found,  reaching  eight  feet  in 
height,  and  in  his  skull  was  a  copper  tomahawk  with  a 
tempered  edge,  showing  that  the  people  of  that  day 
possessed  an  art  now  lost  to  the  present  age,  viz :  that 
of  hardening  copper,  so  as  to  make  it  available  for  cut- 
ting purposes,  the  same  as  steel  .Evidences  of  these 
mounds,  especially  near  Wabashaw  and  ^aVjeii  below  it, 
are  abundant^    Sor-too,  thcr#^ 


who  at  one  time  were  eng agedsin  smelting  Idad  ore, 
traces  of  whicih  are  quite  apparent,    _  „, 


6o 


LAKE  JPEPIN  AND  ITS  SCENERY. 


■ 


'»/ 


.    The  high  uplifts  of  rocks,  their  grotesque  character 
the  dark  ravines,  th^  diversified  scenery,  which  marks 
the  borders  of  the  river,  with  the  grand  river  itself 
.     make  a  <ride  on   the  broad  bosom  of  the  Father  of 
.    Waters  not  only  ddightful,  but  deeply  interesting  to 
«ie  lover  of  romance  as  well  as  to  the  lover  of  research 
The  bluffs  on  the  West  side  of  the  rivet  rise  to  a  height* 
of  from  475  to  500  feet.    About  midway  of  Lake  Pe- 
pm  (which,  as  I  have  already  said,  is  a  part  of   the 
Mississippi  river  itself),  can  be  seen  a.  prominent  peak, 
well  known  to  tourists  as  Maiden  Rock,  and  here  is 
the.point  from  whence  an  lUdian  maiden  precipitated 
herself  406  feet  to  the  base  below,  rather  than  many  a 
man  she  did  not  love.     Most  Indian  legends  partake  of 
^    the  fabulous,  with   onl^  a  little  tincture  of  trutK  to 
make  them  palatable,  but  it  ts  a  fact  that  an  Indian  girl 
DID  throw  herself  from  this  rock,  and  for  the  reason 
already  given,  but  it  is  not  a  factjthat  it  was^an  Indian 
she  loved,  but  a  Frenchman.    jGhn  Bush,  eighty-three 
years  of  age,  writes  as  follows/  / 

"Now,  as  for  Maiden  ^ock  being  a  legend,  it  is  a 

mistake.     It  was  a  real  thing  and  no  legend.    The  man 

.  who  wanted  to  many  the'giri  was  a  young  Frenchman 

He  was  killed  by  lightning.     I  saw  him  ten  minutes 

.    after  he  was  killed.     He  was  a  young  man  then.    The 

-men  who  knew  about  it  are  all  dead  but  myself.''  ' 

So  this  legend,  or  romance  pass^  out  of  fiction  into 

■  reality,  and  of  course  becomes  more  interesting  as  it 

becomes  known  to  be  a  fact,  supported  by  the  evidence 

<  of  a  living  witness.  p,     *  •  - 

Maiden  Rock  itself  i8  a  peculiar  freak  of  nature.  It 
-FPccirs  10  have  been  siM^p  from  below  and  then 
squared  by  the  compass.    The  surroundings  are  wUd 


M'M:' 


i3^i,bj  -r  'UMJ^  hi.i^MJh 


4fe.iW^.-.».dW,  ^ 


LAKE  PEPIN  AND  ITS  SCENERY. 


6i 


and  weird,  with  a  few  straggling,  stunted  trees,  and  it 
seems  to  be  a  fitting  place  for  the  spirit  of  the  Indian 
girl  to  roam  with  her  lover — as  it  is  alleged  she  does — 
outside  and  beyond  the  tantalizing  influences  of  her 
relatives,  who,  in  their  day  sought  to  do  what  the  whites 
now  seek  to  do,  to  make  proper  matches  for  the  young 
people,  in  order  to  increase  the  standing,  the  influence, 
and  in  many  cases  the  wealth  of  their  children. 

The  tourist,  as  he  ascends  the  river  on  the  deck  of 
the  steamer,  can  see  Maiden  Rock  looming  up  into  the 
clouds.  He  catches  the  rugged  scenery,  the  peerless 
buttes,  the  smooth,  grand  expanse  of  the  lake;  then 
the  flowing  river,  the  numerous  boats  and  rafts  that  dot 
its  bosom,  and  if  hq  is  a  lover  of  nature  in  her  grandest 
typ6,  he  will  become  etherealized,  as  it  were,  and  elec- 
trified by  the  surpassing  beauty  of  the  American 
scenery,  as  seen  in  a  trip  up  the  Mississippi  river  to  the 
capital  city  of  ^  great  empire  which  lies  beyond. 


:'«. 


^ 


I      • 


> 


i  '  .■* 


"?;  ^ 


^e,* 


I.  "■ 


KIS-SE-ME-PA  AND  KAR-GO-K^V      '' 

VERY  spring,  for  perhaps  a  century,  or  as  long 

as  there  hag  been  a  nation  of  red  men,  a-n  island 

in  the  middle  of  White  Bear  lake  had  been  visited  by 

a  band  of  Indians  for  the  purpose  of  making  maple 

sugar. 

Tradition  says  that  many  years  ago,  while  the  Indians 
w^re  upon  this  island,  a  young  warrior  loved  and  wooed 
the  daughter  of  his  chief,  and  it  is  said,  also,  the  maiden 
loved  the  warrior.  He  had  again  and  again  been  re- 
fused her  hand  by  her  parents,  the  old  chief  alleging 
that  he  was  no  brave,  and  his  old  consort  calling  him  a 
woman! 

The  sun  had  again  set  upon  the  "  sugar  bush,"  and 
the  bright  moon  rode  high  in  the  blue  heavens,  when 
the  young  warrior  took  down  his  flute  and  went  out 
alone,  once  more  to  sing  the  story  of  his  love.     The 
mild  breeze  gently  moved  the  two  gay  feathers  in  his 
head  dress,  and  as  he  mounted  upon  the  trunk  of  a 
leaning  tree,  the  damp  snow  fellfrom  his  feet  heavily. 
As  he  raised  His  flute  to  his  lips  his  blanket  slipped 
from  his  well-formed  shoulders,  and  Jay  partly  on  the 
snow  beneath.     He  began  his  wild,  weird  love  song 
but  soon  felt  that  he  was  cold,  and  as  he  reached  back 
for  his  blanket  some  unseen  hand  laid  it  gently  on  his 
shoulders.    It  was  the  Kand  of  his  love— his  guardian 
angel,    ^e  took  her  place  beside  him,  and  for  the 
i^iv-av-iiL  Uicy  were irappy-;— for:  the  Indiah  has  a  heart 
to  love,  and  in  this  respect  he  is  as  noble  as  in  his  own 

'   ■    ■     -    ^  I      


* 


mmf'^ 


KIS-SErME-PA  AND  KAR-GO-KA. 


63 


freedom,  which  makes  him  the  child  of  the  forest.    As 
the  legend  runs,  a  large  white  bear,  thinking,  perhaps, 
that  polar  snows  and  dismal  winter  extended  eveiy- 
wherp,  took  up  his  journey  southward.     He  at  length 
reached  the  northern  shore  of  the  lake  which  ^ow  bears 
his  name,  walked  down  the  bank,  and  made  his  way 
noiselessly  through  the  deep,  heavy  snow  toward  the 
island:    The  lovers  h^d  lefb their  first  retreat,  and  were 
seated  among  the  branches  of  a  large  elm  which  hung 
far  out  over  the  lake.     For  fear  of  being  detected  they 
had  talked  alniost  in  a  whisper,  arid    now,  that  they 
might  get  back  to  camp  in  good  time  and  thereby  avoid 
suspicion,  they  were  just  rising  to  return,  when  the 
maiden  uttered  a  shriek  which  was  heard  at  the  camp, 
and  bounding  toward  the  young  brave,  she  caught  his 
blanket,  but  missed  the  direction  of  her  foot  and  fell, 
bearing  the  blanket  with  her  into  the  great  arms  of  the 
ferocious  monster,  v^hich  had  crawled  stealthily  under 
the  tree.    Instantly  every  man,  woman  and  child  of  the 
band  were  upon  the  i^and,  but  all.unarmed.    Cries  and 
wailings  went  up  from  every  mouth.    What  was  to  be 
done?    In  the  meantime  this  white  arid  savage  beast 
held  the  breathless  maiden  in  his  huge  grasp,  and  fon- 
dled with  his  precious  prey  as  if  he  were  used  to  scenes 
like  this.    One  deafening  yell  from  the  lover  warrior  is 
heard  above  the  cry  of  hundreds  of  his  tribe,  and  dash- 
ing  a.ylva.y  to  his  wigwam,  only  a  few  steps  distant,  he 
grasps  his  faithful  knife,  returns  almost  at  a  single 
bound  to  the  scene  of  fear  and  fright,  rushes  out  along 
the  leaning  tree  to  the  spot  where  |iis  treasure  fell,  and 
springing  with  the  fury  of  a  mad  panther,  pounced  upon 


his  prqr.    The  animal  turned,  and  with  one  stroke  of 
his  huge  paw  brought  the  lovers  heart  to  heart,  but  the 


'^'1'    *  1 


•/ 


64 


KIS-SE-ME-PA  AN^  KAR-GO-KA. 


next  moment  the  warrior,  with  one  plunge  of  the  blade 
of  his  knife,  opened  the  crimson  sluices  of  death,  ai^d 
the  dying  bear  relaxed  his  hold.  4  >^ 

That  night  there  was  no  j  more  sleep  for  the  band  or 
the  lovers;  and  as  the  youn^  and  the  old  danced  about 
the  carcass  of.  the  dead  monster  and  feasted  upon  his 
flesh,  the  gallant  warrior  was  presented  with  another* 
plume,  and  ere  anothei/moon  had  set  he  had  a  living 
treasure  added  to  his  iieart.  Their  children  for  many 
years  played  upon  t^  tanned  skin  of  the  White  Bear 
—from  which  the/ lake  derives  its  name— and  the 
•*  ^maiden  and'  the  )^rave  remembered  long  the  fearful 
scene  and  the  rescue  that  made  them  one,  for  Kis-se- 
me-pa  and  Kar-g6-ka  could  never  forget  their  fearful 
encounter  with  th^  huge  monster  that  came  so  near 
sending  them  to  the  happy  hunting  ground. 


V 


"  v, 


Iff 

\           • 

■■  «  ■ 

V. 

w 

'■'■  •  - 

./:        : 

i. 

1 

» 

* 

■ 

•    1 

J 

«rt 

,    i/*^*': 

;.  ^,.,.'^.;,-al-.- 

i 

V 

^^$^ 

J 

.*-     ^ 

'\          ; 

iifa» 


\ 


■'^ 


NARROW  ESCAPE  FROM  A  HORRIBLE 
INDIAN  MASSACRE;  X 


M 


;^^       THI  SKULKING  DOG. 

IN  the  spring  of  1863  I  was  stationed  at  Camp  Pope, 
above  Fort  Ridgely,  on  thei  Minnesota  river,  State 
of  Minnesota,  in  the^dqjj^e  cap^ity  of  United  States 


Commissaiy  and  Qu 
terrible  Indian  mass 
innocent  settlers  los 
after  the  Governfti0ht 


iter.     This  was  after  the 

eby  nearly  one  thousand 

tves'  by  the  savages,  and 

Tganized  a  command  of  sol-^ 


diers,  under  a  competent  leader,  to  pursue  the  hostile 
Sioux,  reclaim  the  white  prisoners,  but  at  any  rate 
drive  the  enemy  into^co:  across  the  Missouri  river,  where 
arrangements  had  been  mad^'to  intercept,  and  if  possi- 
ble, annihilate  them.  "X 

Camp  Pcr#e  was  situated  above  Little  Crow's  village, 
where  the  chfef  of  that  name  had  resided,  and  Was  in 
the  neighborhood  of  where  the  Indian  war  had  bjeen 
inaugurated,  for  it  was  Little  Crdw  himself  who  mar- 
shaled his  young  warriors  to  battl^^and  who  was 
responsible  for  the  horrid  butcheries  ^^e  wMtcs  the 
previous  year.  The  camp  was  located  some  distance 
from,  the  Minnesota  river,  overlooked  by  a  ridge  of 
bluffs,  with  drift  granite  boulders  on  the  right,  and  a 
very  pretty  valley  stretching  off  up  toward  Vellow 

l\T*»rUr»tn«»     *\\gu    tf^-tn^^^    T—Jr^^ »nt  •  ^ '-* 


Medicine,  the  former  Indian 


agency.    The -jilace  .was: 


devoid  of  trees  and  seemed  admirably  adapted  to  the' 
purpose  for^which  it  was  chosen,  with  one  ejtteption. 


% 


'Vi^V 


66 


NARROW  ESCAPE  FROM  A 


7    < 


1' 

5 


On  the  right  of  the  camp,  looking  down  toward  the 
^  Minnesota  river,  was  a  thick  clump  of  bushes,  and  I 
remember  expressing  fears  when  the  camp  was  selected, 
that  the  Indians  might,  under  cover  of  these  bushes, 
especially  after  the  leaves  came  out,  make  an  attack 
upc^  it,  but  men  of  greater  Indian  experience  than 
myself,  thought,,  that  by  thrbwing  out  a  guard  in  that 
direction,  that  all  surprise  could  be  anticipated,  so  the 
camp  soon  became  a  young  city  of  bustling  life  and 
activity.,.  At  last,  in  June,  1863,  the  entire  command, 
comprising  4,000  soldiers,  with  all  the  necessary  essen- 
tials for  a  successful  Campaign  against  the  hostile  sav- 
ages, set  out  on  its  journey,  and  winding  up  in  the 
valley  already  inxJicated,  and  passing  over  the  bluff, 
made  an  imposing  and  stirring  scene. 

Never  did  I  experience  c^  more  lonely  or  a  more 
homesick  feeling,  as  when,,  towards  sundown  of  that 
memorable  day,  I  lookecj  out  upon  that  deserted  camp, 
where,  only  ten  hours  before,  four  thousand  soldiers, 
with  eighteen  hundred  horses  and  mules ;  with  the 
^  tread  of  men,  with  martial  music,  with  familiar  face§, 
with  burning  camp  fires,  with  white  tents,  and  stream- 
ing flags,  were  wont  to  greet  my  eye — all  now  gone  !— 
desolate,  dark,  lonely,  dreary !  How  still !  How  I 
longed  for  wings  to  fly  tb  get  away  from  myself ! — 
s*  what  a  terrible  depression  came  upon 'me  f  and'  with  a 
shudder  I  turned  and  sought  my.  office,  \^ere  consola- 
tion was  to  come  (Mly  in  sleep.  ,. 

Camp  Pope  was  the  rendezvous  for  supplies  which 
i^ht  be  needed  for  the  expedition  *after„Mt  had  left, 
a»d  for  roe  sick  which  might  be^sent  back  from  it.  Also 
for  disabled  horses  "an?  oflier  property  belonging^t  the 
GovemJfent.     A   small  stoikade  of  logs  had  been 


$ 


S&k: 


"^f 


HORRIBLE  ISDIAN  MASSACRE. 


67 


thrown  up  in  case  of  an  attack  from  the  Indians,  and 
inside  of  this  defense  was  Company  I,  of  the  Ninth 
Regiment,  a  class  of  boys  who  had  nevet  smelt  Indian 
gUn-powder,  and  from  what  I  could  learn;  who  really 
never  wanted  to,  and  yet  they  were  all  brave  men.  In 
the  Quartermaster's  building  was  a  small  squad  of  sol- 
diers,^ called  the  convalescent  corps,  unfit  for  duty,  but 
who,  in  case  of  an  emergency,  might  be  made  availa- 
ble. Of  eleven  horses,  not  more  than  t4o  could  be  put 
to  any  use,  whatever,  and  these  were  kept  in  readiness 
in  case  of  an  attack.  An  occasional  Indian  (no  doubt 
a  spy)  would  peer  in  upon  the  camp,  but  notwithstand- 
itjgthe  vigilance  of  the  soldiers,  he  would  contrive  to 
escape.  ^  - 

About  ten  days  after  the  expedition  had  left  rumors 
came  from  the  Indian  scout-camp,  sojne  miles  above 
our  own,  that  tracks  of  Indian  ponies  had  been  seen 
on  the  west  side  of  the  Minnesota  river,  and  fears  were 
entertained  that  an  attack  might  be  made  upon  us  at 
any  moment.  These  run^rs  gained  credence,  because 
we  all  thought  it  would  be  a  very  Indian-like  trick  to 
slip  round  behind  the  expedition,  and  pounce  in  upon 
our  small  party;  and  if  an>^  considerable  number  of 
Indians  had  done  so,  the  writer,  and  many  others, 
would  have  becnnon  est,  while  the  savages  would  have 
gained  one  scalp  minus  the  hair;  and  therein  I  always 
considered  I  should  get  the  better  of  our  wily  enemy, 
who,  I  imagined,  would  grit  his  teeth  as  he  held  up 
his  trophy  of  a  bald  and  shining  pate,  out  of  which  he 
could  get  no  further  satisfaction  than  a— grunt.  (In- 
dians  don  t  like  bald-headed  men;> 


i4 


-4 


i 


'I 


The  constant  fear  of  an  attack  had  induced  the 
commander  of  the  post  to  take  every  precautionaiy 


5gg?EO 


68 


«  I ; 


NARROW  ESCAPE  FROM  A 


'  tfr 


/ 


¥ 


measure  for  defense  he  could.  I  had  brought  thei 
horses  inside  the  guard-lines;  trenches  had  been  dug 
about  the  Commissary  and  Quartermaster's  buildings, 
while  a  camp-fire  was  kept  constantly  burning  inside  of 
the  stockade,  where  our  most  available  men  were  q,uar- 
tered.  The  command  was  so  small  that  only  four 
guards  and  reliefs  could  be  employed  to  protect  the 
camp,  and,  as  every  day  brought  confirmatory  news  of 
Indians  hovering  about  us,  these  guards  were  instructed 
to  Witch  carefully,  and,  on  the  first  appearance  of  dny 
object^  halt  it  three  times,  arid,  on  the  last  time,  if  it 
did  not  halt,  fire.  AH  parties,  being  satisfied  that  an 
unexpected  attacji  could  not  be  made  upon  the  camp, 
settled  down  to  quietness  and,  to  i%st. 

iMvas  evening.-  The  sky  was  overcast  with  black 
clouds,  and  thie  darkness  was  almost  impenetrable, 
ThjB  Wind  soughed  around  the  camp,  and  moaned  like 
some  los^spirk,  anxious'to  gain  admittance  into  my 
littte  office,  wjiire  I  sat  revelling  upon  the  past.  Ever 
and  anon,  arhid  the  death-like  stillness  of  the  night, 
only4he  ciiA  of  a  musket  could  be  heard  tp  break  the* 
eternal  moi\otony  of  the  blast,  as  it  came  in  fitful  gusts 
and  painted,  in  imagination,  the  unrelenting,  wander- ^^ 
ing,  dancing  skeletons  of  the  red  men,  who  had  arisen 
from  their  graves  to  take  part  in  the  coming  conflict ! 
To  me  they  seemed  dodging  around  the  corners,  and 
peeping  into  Sewindows,  and  gathering  at  the  camp- 
fir^  and  yet,  calm  and  serene,  amid  all  this  outside 
clamor,  I  •  dreamed  of  home,  and.  friends  and  loved 
ones.  In  an  instant  my  reveries  were  disturbed  by  the 
report  uf  a  gun,  and  seizing  luy  pistol,  I  emerged  into~ 
the  darkn^s.  In  a  minute  more  the  camp  was  all 
i|pUr^  for  all  realized  the  impending  and  probable  dan* 


L%£D-  AMitAf:^!.. 


.-«''«^itaiR.'»»^  / 


•     '  HORRIBLE  INDIAN  MASSACRE.  69 

ger,  and  pushing  my  way  rapidly  to  the  camp-fire  in 
the  stockade,  I  met  the  office^  in  command,  with  his 
hair  in  many  kinks,  shirt  bosom  open,  coat  off,  with  no 
shoes  or  stockings  (ife  was  ^  warm  night  in  June),  and 
'Who  hurriedly  exclaimed :  « 

"Captain,  where  do  you  think  that  report  came 
from?"  #  -^  -  V 

I  replied,  "Guard  No.  4.  .Th^pk  they  are  aftef  our 
horses."       ^         *  ^• 

"  No ;  I  think:  it  <tame  from  No.  3,"  he  answered,  and 
off  he  darted  into  the  darkless;  leaving  me  making  my 

*  way,  as  fast  As  possible,  to  the  s^ckade.  In  the  mean- 
tiijie  the  soldiers  gathered  around  the  camp-fire,  and  as 
the  light  shone  ijpon  their  pale -and  frightened  faces, 

f  the  scene  was  one  of  a  most  impressive  character. 
Here  I  halted,  but  no  news  coming  from  the  commander 
of  the  post,  and  Tearing  that  not  only  hV  but  ^11  the. 
guards  had  been  shot  down  by.  arrows,  and  that  any 
minute  we  might' see  the  infuriated  redskins  rushing  in 
^  upon  us,  with  their  wjfir-whoops,  tomahawks  and  knives, 
I  ordered  two  soldiers  to  accompany  me,  and  crawling 
upon  our  hands  and  knees,  some  distance  from  each 
other  (so  that  we  might  got  be  shot  at  once),  we  felt 
our  \vay  in  the  4arkness,  to  guard  No.  4,  where  we  heard 
subdued  voices,  and^on  drawii%  nearer,  found  them  to 
be  that  of  the  guard  and  the  faithful  Commander,  wo 
had  periled  his  own  life  to  save  Ihat  of  his  command. 
An  explanation  followed,  to  the  effect  that  the  guard, 
who  was  a  half-breed  Indian,  ^ad  discovered  a  large 
dog  crawling  up  from  the  bushes  previously  alluded  to, 
and  that,  after  hailing  him  tliicc  tiinci^,  he  fired,  and 
the  animal  ran  back  to  the  spot  from  whence  he  came. 
We  lUl  i^tumed  to  camp,  <>r  rather  the  etockade,  but 


«■?. 


-W       -4-1 


.{ 


.i^f?^ 


70 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 


there  was  no  sleep-  that  night.    Eyeiy  man  was  on  the 

alert  for  tlie  enemy.  .     ^         .     ' 

., ..  A  few  days  after  this  event  news  came  that  Little 

Croyf,  who  had  instigated'  the  war,  had  been  shot  near 

(Aleii(;oe,  and  that  his  son,  who,  in  ithe  meantime  had 

been  captured,  stated  that  his  father  and  seventeen 

other  Indians  had  decided  to  take  our  camp  at  tM 

^  time  the  animal  was  seen  to  ascend,  the  hill,  and  for- 

that  purpose  had  sent  forward  an  Indian  in  a  dog's  skin, 

who  was  to  crawl  up  to  and  shoot  down  the  guard  with 

arrows^  and  then  the  odier  Indians  were  to  surprise  the 

commjind  and  murder  every  soul !    Haid  it  not  been  for 

the  sagacity  and  fkithf^lhess  of  this  half-breed  guard, 

the  devilish  purpose  <Jf  kittle -Crow  might  have  been 

accon^lished,  but,  finding  tlje  camp  alarmed  through 

the  repbrt  ol  the  gun,  he  and  his  men  made  tkeir  way 

toward  the  settlements  nety;  Glencoe  ^  steal  horses, 

where  he  finally  met  his  death;    And  tlius  we  escaped 

a  horrijjle  butchery  from  the  Mme  savage's,  who,  but  a. 

trtiime  before,  had  murdered  one  thousand  inoffens- 
white  citizens,  escaped  simply  througKthg^  sagacity 
of  a  half-breed  guard,  who,  knowing  Indian  character 
better  than  the  whites,  fired  afr,  the  dodging  animal, 
which,  in  the  skin  of  a  dog,  proved  to  be  a  tried  war- 
rior of  the  great  Sioux  chieftain,  who  was  only  waiting 
with  his  men  to  hear  that  our  sentinels  had  been  killed 
by  the  silent  arrows  from  his  disguised  savage  soldier, 
to  complete  the  slaughter  of  the  whole  camp !  But,  in 
the  language  of  Webster—"  We  still  live." 


"V 


w 


y#  • 


,*■■ 


PiCK-A-WA-KA  AND  EL-MO-NA. 

„        ■  ^         -}\ 

MANY  moons  ago  large  tribes  of  Indians  used  to 
roam  over  the  ground  now  known  as  Elmo  Par^ ' 
The  tribes  were  hostile  to  each  other,  arid  never  let  an 
opportunity  pass  to  visit  vengeance  upon  tlieir  enemy. 
Both  Ayere  wily  and  warlike,  the  Sioux'  note*,  for  their 
eiinning  and  bravery,  the  Chippewas  for  their  Sup^ior 
manly  qusijities,  but  both  w,ere  ever  on  .the  alert  to  visit 
death  upon  their  deadly  foe.  Near  where  a  hotel  now 
stands,  and  amid  a  bower  of  trees  and  brush,  was  located 
a  modest,  silent  tepee,  and  in  it  on  a  bright  moonlight 
night,  singing  a  low,  plaintive  love  song,  was  a  beauti- 
ful Sioux  maiden.  Her  subdued,  sweet,  wild  tones 
floated  over  the  water,  arid  ever  and  anon  she  peered 
out  into  space  is  thoug^  expecting  some  visitor,  and 
ypf ,  as  she  thought  of  Jiis  comiug  her  frariie  quivered 
^nd  she^ranH  back  into  h^r  quiet  home  as  though 
some  drieadful  danger  was  impending.  Again  she  sang. 
Again  her  eye  brightened.  She  placed  herear  to  the 
pebbiy  shore  and  listened,  and  then .  like^feeautiful 
fawn  she  seemed  #SLtisfixed  foihe  spot.  Hark!  How 
still!  Listen!  She  ^ars  again h  How- her  heart 
beats !  Away  off  on.the|BHicf  side  of  the  lake  can  btf 
heard  the  light  dipping  m  paddles-l^^ow  faint  and 
yet  hoW  clear  to  her,  his  signal  !^ 

A  inilc  back  of  her  tcpcc  ts^  her 
are  danqing  over  the  scalps  of  the  Chippewas.    They 
arc  drunk  with  excitement.    They  heitr  nothing,  know 

.     '  >■■  *  '    fi  '■'-'.■ 


I. 


A* 


^ 


% 


^ 


KCK-A^A-KA  AND  EL-MO-NA, 

"^owgr  biit  blood;  and  so,  seeking  her  - 
sh^Has  ^ined -her  silent  retreat;  she  h 
presence  known  td^er  lover,  and  he  is% 
one  ift  her  own  ba^j^not  one  of  her  owiktil 
gallant  hero  #  her^^eadly  enihiie^^no  ipWn^ 
youi^  warriS^r  of  th^hippe|^tioL  for  %^  Jaiighs 
at  af  restmints,  even^ong^«^udlWl^ri^of  the 
iorests.     Nearer  and^sferer  W  Uslit  cai^  pI 

M  boW 


"^^^f^-^^  ^""ii^  «hoC4lt  stopsJ 


'*.> 


.,  jf^g*  to  lie  sidei;f -pi^iptL^. 


met  again,  and-.e/e  another 
->.«  ^v.  ^e  one.     Qh  I  my.  Bcarni&— (best 
^    i  -;  V  >        beai«ul  to  know  that  amiiajl  the  strife 
'  \9^^W'^^^^0  hearts  know  naUght  but'Jove ' " 
•^^k^^-ka,  be  brave  !"sdid  El-mo-na.  t*  He  comes 
^m^daiig^rt  .  Hear    my  people?      P^^-wa-ka's 
?^/~E.\^    't^i    ^'    See -the  moonlight  kissing  tlie  ripples? 
^.^l-mo-nas  heart    kisses  Pick-a-wa-ka ! "     And  there 
^.  standing  upon.the  shore  of  this  lake,  in  a  spot  So  quiet' 
,  ^o  beautiful,  so  secluded,  yet  so/datigerotis,  with  the 
■  owaves^singing  a  gentle  ^lullaby,  the  moonbeams  playing 
,  Ayith  the  foliage  of  the  trees,  the  Indian  lovers  pledged 
their  hearts,' aftd  calling  uppn  the  Great  Spirit  ^o  wit- 
n<^s  their.fidelity,  cla^e^  each  other  in  ai^  embrace* of 
^  ^^effnal  love.  ^ 

List!  a. sound  is  heardViri  the^distaric^!     El-ma-na  . 


/    ¥ 


tumbles!    JShe  beseeches  Pick-a^wa-ka  ^o 
life!     They  are  discovered!     Thd\ you 
brave  draws  his  1  * 


with  his-  p.erso|||ji 

knife.     Wfth  ^Id  war-whoop  the 


id  with  his  righ 


!.    , 


for  his, 
iippewa 
ing  her" 
fraips  hi^ 
a#er  upon 


% 


^ 


pick-a-Wa-ka  and  el-mo-Na. 


71 


him!.    Their  tomahawks  gleam  in  the ,  moonbeams ! 
They  draw  nearer  and  nearer!    the  fatal  stroke  de- 
scends, when,  with  the  agility  of  a  tigress,  El-mo-na 
glides  in  front  of  him  and  the  knife  inters  her  body, . 
and  she  falls  to  the  ground.     Relieved  of  his  burden,'  ; 
Pick-a-wa-ka  is  sbon  conscious  of  his  powef.*  Desperate,  ,, 
with  the  belief  that  his  love  is  mortalfy  wounded,  he 
dashes  at  his  enemies,  and  almost  instantly  th€  two 
assailants  lie  dead  upon  the  beach.    But  more  of  the' 
band  is  coming  \    He  has  no  time  to  lose.^  Pjcking  up 
th^lifeless  body  of  El-mo-na,  he  placed  it  tenderly  in 
the  canoe,  and  in  a  moment  more  was  paddling  over 
the  lake,  and  when  his  enemies  had  reached  the  shore, 
his  boat  was  sSme  distance  from  land.     He  rdwed  with 
superhuman  power;  reached  the  landing  on  the  oppo-   c 
site  side  of  the  lake,  near  where  a  little  stream  ripples 
in  laughter  down  the  bank,  bore  his  sacred  trust  to  the 
camp  of  his  tribe,  and  exhausted,  fell  senseless  by  its 
side.    On  i-ecovering,  a  medicine  man  was  bending  over 
him,  arid  near  him  sat  El-mo-na,  her  dark,, brilliant  eyes 
fixed  upon  his  face.     Her  wound  did  not  prove  fatal. 
With  gentle  nursing  she  fully  recovered,  married  Pick- 
^-wa-ka,  and  years  afterwards,  when  both^er  own  tribe 
and  the  Chippewas  were  removed  far  away,  and  when  . 
eighty  moons  had  silverpd  their  hair  with  gray,  they 
visited  the  haunts  of  their  early  love,  secured  permission 
to  dwell  in  peace  in  a  quiet,  lovely  spot  not  far  from  ' 
the  present  hotel,  where  they  died,  greatly  esteemed  by 
what  few  whites  *!^amed  through  the  country -at  that 
tiitie  in  quest  of  gamfe'^and  fur. 

It  is  said  tlnatLori  still mopnlight-nrgh^ts  a  wild,  sweet 
Iftdian  song  can  be  heard*  floating  over  the  waters  of 
the  lak<Bjjupg6^d  to  be  the  spirit  of  ^El-mc^na,  while  i. 


74 


PICK-A^WA-KA  AND  *EI>-MO-NA. 


ligfit  canoe  <ian  be  seen  gliding  noiselessly,  upon  the^ 
waves  as  they  gently  dash  against  the  shore.    In  honor 
of  this  beautiful  Indian  legend,  no  wonder  the  place  is 
called—ELMO  LODGE !  ' 


\c 


'M 


It* 


'f      t. 


'  \ 


/ 


tm 


■'  „•"• 


I. 


.llil*       At  :.    - 


MEMORY    OF    A    NOTED   CHIPPEWA  ' 
CHIEF~HOLE-IN-THE-DAY. 

WHILE  sitting  in  a  small  office  of  a  hotel  in  the 
West,  in  the  year  1853,  or  thirty-one  years  ago, 
my  attention  was  attractecf  by  the  imposing  presence 
of  a  large  Indian  chief,  who,  with  his  blanket  about 
him,  strodfe  into  the  room  with  the  dignity  of  a  Roman 
Senator.  He  was  a  large  man,  with  high  cheek  bones, 
a  vvell-poised  head,  dark,  brilliant  black  eyes  and  hair. 
With  a  pleasant  smile,  he  exclaimed,  as  he  passed— 
"  Booshu,  neches,"  or  in  Indian  dialect— "how  to  do, 
friend  ?"  and  took  a  seat  near  me.  There  was  a  mass- 
iv^characteristic  about  the  man  which  did  not  bel||ig 
to  the  ordinary  Indian,  and  yet  hse  had  all  the  Indmn  ^ 
peculiarities.  Dinner  was  soon  announced  and  he  tookW|| 
a  seat  near  me  at  the  table.  He  ate  with  ordinary  de-  '^ 
liberation,  and  an  ordinary  amount  of  food,  but  while 
thus  engaged,  one  of  the  windows  was  suddenly  dark- 
ened, and  on  looking  up  I  beheld  many  grimmy  faces 
and  burning  eyes,  with  war-paint  and  feathers,  the 
possessors  pf  which  belonged  to  the  Sioux  nation— the 
deadly  enenajes  of  the  noted  chief.  Gleaming  kfc|^ 
•and  partially  concealed  toniahawks,  made  hiy  po§S^^ 
by  the  side  of  the  wardor  jrather  uncomfortable,  so  I 
moved  away,  but  he  continued  to  eat  on,  and  then  the 
door  opened  and  thirty  Sioux  Indians  filed  along  in 
frbnt  of  the  foft  of  thpir  n^^ti^n,  with  clinched  rifloi,  and 
h^art^^^pipg  with  revenge.  Still,  calm,  with  liot  a 
^muscle  «rhis  mobile  face  denoting  fear,  the  chief  fin- 
♦  75 


y6        MEMOkY  OF  A  NOTED  CjHIPPEWA  CHIEF, 


"jfv 


.4 


ished  his  dirniel*,  cooly  arose,  drew  his  blanket  about' 
him  and  with  a  ^^jjtoApp^  and  a  compressed  lip,  and 
flashing  ^y^hM/KKKI^^  in'-froAt  of  these  hostile 
Sioux,  and  jMpl^fflrpfpe,  deliberately  puflfed  the 
smoke  intc^pl  very  faces  of  his  inveterate  foe  !^        ^ 
That  man  was  Hole-in-t^e-Day,  the  great  and  noted 
chief  of  the  Chippewa  NatioB^nd  the  thirty  Sioux 
warriors  were  on  his  war-|j!(iifBBTOey^ell?knew,  and 
P  ^J'd  Hole-in-therDay,  that  |he  moment  a  blow  had 
he^Jtruck,  that  the  white  man's  troops  would  dash 
^c>>m?^Po»^  them  and  terminate  their  career ;  so  the 
c^iefpassed  alon^  m  safety,  and  the  sullen  Sioux  soon 
^l^r  withdrew  to  their  own  possessions,  which,  at  that  - 
tiqpe,  was  on  the  west  side  of  the  Mississippi   river. 
,*fhe  wily  ^ief  well  knew  that  his  safetylay  in  the  fact 
that  he  w|s  on  land  belongii}g  to  thelites,  while  hadA 
he  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  rive|v6n  groimJl0^ned 
by  the  SipHX,  he  would  have  metyterrible  death,  as  it 
#ks  only  a  «]|ort  time  before  be^rosse^  the  river,  took  '^ 
6wo  Sioux  scllps,  right  in  the  face  of  the  enemy  and 
civilization,  and  retiime4glorying  over  his  achieverf^t. 
He  was  a  brave,  inteilflfferil Indian  c^ief,  and  his  mem-  . 
ory  is  kindly  cjjj^sh^by  Stf:  whites|  ^ 


,<; 


E  OF  H0LE-IN-THE-I)AY; 


A 


^^bout  two  njj|fefnorthwe||,^pfXit^  Falls,  a  town 
iStated  on  tl^  UiJ^er  Mis^^i^i  ^pver,  in  pnnojRot^ 
and  on  a  high  till,  felown  a^^^in-fhe-Day^f^liluf!, 
Ues  the  body  of  the  gre^JChJppewa  iChief,  and  that  of 
^  ¥*j|^'^»  *  "^H*^  chief  Ofcr|  him,  both,  facing  south- 
ci^t^^' they  can  lyaftch  tli^movements  of  their  enemies 


tBe  Sioux.    There  is  a  gap  between  the  depression 
ofthe  two  hills  upon  which  the  bodies  lie,  and  in  the 


sAdiJL:'t& . 


HOLE-IN-THI&-DAY. 


11 


middle  of  thi^  depression  stands  a  lone  tree,  conveying 
the  idea  from  the  road-Side,  that  a  sentinel  was  guard- 
ing the  graves.  The  view  from  the  top  of  this  bluff  is 
grand,  presenting  a  scene  unrivaled  in  beauty  and 
charming  naturalness.  No  other  Indians  are  permitted 
to  be  buried  near  the  remains  of  these  two  great  Chip- 
pewa chieftains.       ^~  ~^         ^~~'    ----^-  -^- 


'M!. 


f. 


i 


m* 


%  1 


V 


T 


'V,     '., 


t/ 


#5 


M 


■'■""iW^^^^^^^^KlF 

'  ""^^ 

s-^i^ 

■'  :*•■ 

^' 

'-:" 

a-  . 

Jf''' 

mr 

'^ 

■ "'  ■'^ .  ^  \ 

. 

?/ 

lHE-LE-0-PA  AND  NIM-PE-WA-PA. 

I'^HERE  is  sometmng  peculiarly  fascinatrng  about 
an  Indian  tradition^  handed  down,  as  it  it,  not  in 
books,  but  from  father  to  son,  while  smoking  their 
pipes  around  the  wigwam  fire;  and  there  is  something 
additionally  charming  in  the  stoiy  as  told  by  the  In- 
dian hi^tiself.  Some  fifteen  years  ago,  while  on  my 
way  to  the  Canadian  shore  wi>b.. a. company  of  ex- 
plorers, we  camped  on  the  banks  of  a  beautiful  sheet 
of  water  known  as  Me-de-wa-ka,  when  our  "Ne-car- 
nis,"  or,  in  the  Chippewa  language,  "our  best  friend"— 
that  is,  an  Indian  in  the  party  who  had  attached  him- 
self  to  our  person— entertained  us,  through  my  inter- 
preter, with  the  following  interesting  legend :  . 

"  Many  moons  ago,"  said  the  Indian,  with  a  whiff  of 
his  pipe,  "a  party  of  Sioux  crept  down  silently  to  the 
shores  of  Me-de-wa-ka,  and,  gazing  a  moment,  disap- 
peared  in  the  thick  underbrush  that  encircled  the  lake." 
And  right  here  the  reader  should  bear  in  mind  that 
the  Sioux  and  Chippewas  have  been  at  war  for  a  cent- 
ury past,  and  that  all  the  country  on  the  east  side  of 
the  Mississippi  belonged  to  the  Chippewa's,  while  all 
the  country  on  the  west  side  belonged  to  the  Sioux. 

"A.  young  Chippewa  girl,"  continued  the  Indian, 
"beautiful  as  the  fawn,  with  features  radiant  with  per- 
fection,  was  sitting  upon  the  bank  of  the  lake,  toying 
with  the  gentle  waves,  as  they  came  and  kissed  her 
tawny  feet,  but  when  she  saw  these  enemies  of  her 
ci  uttiiicd  and  ran^  to  the  ^repee,  wKTcfi  was 


located  a  little  back  from  the  shore,  in  a  clump  of  trees. 


SjJt-t  .     ^w    c 


^). 


^E-US^CPfA  AND  NIM-PE-\^A-PA. 


79 


NIm-pe-wa->pa,  her  lover,  brave,  gallant,  affectionate, 
like  a  deer  dashed  from  the  wigwam,  and,  catching  the  . 
maiden  in  his  arms,  asked,  'What  fear?*     He-Ie-o-pa 
pointed  to  the  brush  and  tremblingly  replied,  *  Sioux.'  *' 

The  old  Indian  who  narrated  this  story,  was  silent. 
He  gazed  upon  the  blazing  fire;  gave  out  a  guttural 
sound,  and  then  whiffing  his  pipe  several  times,  con- 
tinued: ;;>,'■■.:•   .  fi    'y  ■-'■■'.:'■  ';   •:.  ^^  .    "-  '  ,  '^   - 

*'  Nim-p6-wa-pa  brave  I  Nim-pe-wa-pa  no  fear  Sioux ! 
Nim-pe-wa-pa*s  heart  be  big!  Rousing  the  band,  the 
Chippewas  were  soon  in  pursuit  of  the  fleeing  enemy, 
led  by  Nim-pe-wa-pa ;  but  the  wily  savages  had  crossed 
the  river,  passed  the  boundary  line,  and  could  only  be 
reached  by  confronting  the  whole  Sioux  nation ;  so, 
chafing  for  fevenge  the  Chippewas  returned  to  their'^' 
camp  on  the  silent  shores  of  Me-de-wa-ka.  ^ 

"It  was  night!  The  full-orbed  moon  sent  a  ray  of 
mellow  light  down  upon  the  beautiful  lake,  while  on  the 
shores  of  the  sparkling  water,  numerous  bands  of 
Indians  regaled  themselves,  either  reclining  upon  the 
mossy  banks  or  sailing  in  their  light  canoes  over  the 
limpid  waves.  The  prattle  arfd  laughter  of  childhood ; 
the  ringing,  gleeful  notes  of  niaiderfe ;  the  plaintive 
songs  of  mothers,  as  they  lulled  their  loved  ones  to 
sleep,  gave  a  charm  to  the  scene  and  presented. a 
picture  unrivaled  in  beauty  and Jn  innocence. 

"The  stars  stooped  down  apid  kissed  the  fair  maiden, 
He-le-o-pa,  as  with  a  soft  tread  and  a  light  t)Ound,  she 
skipped  among  herj^mpanions  the  iairest  of  them  all. 
With  a  perfect  fijlurlpbeautiiful,  soft,  black  ^eyes;  jet 
black  hairj^and  cl^ipJEDm  a  merry  laugh 


and  a  heart  warm  and  generous  in^  its'  inipulses,  no 
wonder  she  was  the  qiieen  of.  her  sex  and  the  loved  of 


SsKm 


"^ 


'-^W 


r^^ 


.-ZJ.  ■ 


80 


HE-LE-O-FA  AND  NIM-PE-WA-PA. 


'^ff 


f^v'S  an^rltnS""  "'"''-M  passed  over  her 
charming!"       '"".'°'""°'^«"t.  ="«'»°  >oveIy,  st.H  so, 

"pp^hf:  wf  «terd:' '^'''"'^^'-''  "■•»  "-a 
CO.CU, .  4  r:ol°s^i'-:;!  -  -■--  - 

hste„i„gtothe2S>oo:*;i^:^i*'/„'^r--  -<« 
unmindful  of  the  fnVh t  Z  1'  Z      "'^  He-Ie^pa,  all 

time  before     tLT^        c  ^"^  "'=^'"^^<'  ''"t  *  sh^rt 

the  moon  ;as%"rth'b,:;''t""^''"''-'''-^ 
brooded  over  and  !bo  "    he  lakT- t^'V^.'  ^-etness    . 
their  pipes,  and  recallerf  Iht  !•    •'      *  '"•''"'"'  PO^ed 

,  ««h,  wi„,  aiirjiu^tCTer:-?"'"'-''^'^ 

scream..   It  broke  out  iea^in  L  I  -       ■  ^  '^""^S:  ■' 
the  echo  came  back  to^elC  1"  ""'"'"^  '''''  ""^  ^^ 

-village  that  an  enetaVwLTn   hi      /''''5"'   '"'^»«    ' 
and  children  ent^d  T.lV        '""'''•     ^Ije  wom^en  ,  i 

their  guns,  and  h^e„it  ^  ZT  "•'  """  ^"'t*^'  ^ 
h^     Whaemean:^--^^~ofthe„o.,i    ' 

companvof  thirty  SioLlSis^t^it     "^"f^ 
^itpd-hm>ound  her  to  a  do^S  i  P""  ''*'■- 

V  ft>  'he  camp  of  the  enemv      R  r    *"^  "'""6  *'«•'  ' 
aSwol  coul<r  be'^devi^d  b^  7oW  wloh  ^  "''"^•'^^  °' 
where  the  rtoise  was  heard  Mi™  ''^«'/°"g;««3ted  ,. 

1*  steed,  and,  givhra  1  /'^""'"'■P''''^''  """""t** 
'^-ong  thl^'r,^  .^rr-".  bounded 
an>l  H»nth"   II     I  -        "'"""'g'    "e-le.o.2at;r>-v>np. 

frfeu^i?         ^''■'''^'^"""  'he  thicker  folCd  by  hU 


-A 


Iw-e  i^'iiSi^l^^^  „ 


m-LErO^H  AKD  NtM-PE-WA-PA. 


8K 


The  old  Iirdian;paused  again,  when  my  interpreter . 
asked— " Kah-erde-ka,  what  then?"     He  refilled  his 
pipe,  then  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  ex- 
claimed—"  Nisisshin,"  which  means  good,  and  clos^ 
his  story  in  the  following  graphic  manner:  r 

"  Nim-pe-wa-.pa*s  pony  sped  like  an  arrow !  Through 
the  bushes,  over  logs,  jumping  ravines,  h^  seemed  to 
possess  the  pow^r  of  the  incarnate.  He,  ^lim-pe-wa-pa,. 
rode  the  air  and' his  men  fled  like  Sirds  at  his  cbni*- 
mand.  The  retreating  Sioux  are  how  in  the  distance, 
dimly  seendh  thfc  mgorilight.  Ten  of  Nim-pe-wa-pa'i 
jnen  have  left  the  main  party  to  intercept  them  On 
they  rush,  pell-mein  ^he  Chippewas  arb  gaining ;  the 
'.  Sioux  are  scattering!  With  the  impetuosity  of  a  hur- 
ricane,  Nim-pe-wa-pa -idarts  down  upon  them!  He 
approaches  them,  and  in  the  full  moonlight,  fires!  Mad 
with  reVenge,  he  continues  the  onslaught  I  tie  draws 
"neater;  again  he  fires;  a  Sibux  falls!  Hpw«he  gloats 
as  he  tears  the  scalp  from  his  head,  and  then  again  con- 
tinues the  pursuit.  In  ^le  meantime  his  friends  have 
c^m#iTup  to  the  rescUe,  anS'  soon  begin  one  of  the 
fiercest  Jndian  battles  on  recori  H^nd  to  hand  thj^ 
meet;  handto  hand  they  fall;  hand  to  hand  they  die! 
i^Where  is  He-le-o-pa?    Death i'deStlH  death! 

"The  party^  of  ten  Chippewas  have  intercepted  the 
flyitfg  Sioux!  ^They  close  in ^on  them!  Red,  gory 
blood  curdles,  in  the  moonli^!  Nim-pe-wji-pa  rides 
like  a, demon !  P'ive  of  the  enemy  have  fallen  fronfchiafi 
liherring  aim,  and  still,  wjth  loss  of  vital  force  ifroi||* 
, ,  '^d^ngerous  Wound,  he  continues.the  conflict !  Dasli5«g 
H,  ''intocihe  thickest  of  the  fig|it,  he  makfrs  nne  dpipprate— 


'%!-' 

i 
I 

*♦ 


i' 


«# 


^    .effort,  aad  in  that  effort  he  confronts  the  Indian  wha 
.  has  He4e-6.p4  bound  to  his  %fra4  »ttd,  with  ^  iniW5J»^     , 

',:.:' ■^.■..  -s-'  ■;•,-! .;%v.  ;■■  ■    ;'^;  ' 


.» 


iiPiiiaiiiilliillli 


82 


HE-LB-O-PA  AND  'NIM-PE-WA-PA. 


.;^!f*i- 


*  ous  plunge,  dismounts  him,  but  in  the  act,  the  animd 
upon  which  He-le^-pa  is  secured,  falls  dead !  Nimlpe^ 
lara^pa  reels,  staggers,  drops  to  the  earth  I  The  conflict 
is  over!  Several  Chippewas  and  eight  Sioux  lie  dead  ' 
upon  the  field  I  Twenty-two  of  the  enemy  have  es- 
caped ;  three  Chippewas  are  lifeless!  The  bodies  of 
He4e^5.pa  and  Nim-pe-wa-pa  are  brought  tenderly  back 
to  the  lodge,  and  there,  amid  great  lamentation,  they 
repose  side  by  side.  All  of  a  sudden  there  is  great 
consternation  in  the  camp !  He-le-o-pa  breathes !  opens 
her  eyes!  moves!  lives !~ IS  not  dead!" 

The  old  Indian  arose  from  the  camp-fire,  strode  back 
and  forward  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  mournfully 
added :  .     . ♦ 

"They  buried  Nim-pe-wa-pa  on  a  little  knoll,  ovei^ 
looking  Me-de-wa-ka,  near  the  Ki-e-le-pa  (or  old  tepee 
ground),  and  for  fifty  moons  the  faithfuf  He-le-o-pa 
visited  and  planted  flowers  upon  the  grave  of  he* 
noble,  brave,  and  devoted  lover." 
.    Parties  who,  visit  the  lake  can  see  the  spot  where 
Nifti-pe-waq^ was. buried,  which  is  marked  by  a«  body 
of  stones^  placed   there  by  the  hands  of  the  whole 
tribe,  who  revered  tKe  memory  of  the  great  ^nd  good 
•Nim-pe-wa-pa.    1^ should  also  add,  that  a  part  of  the 
old  Indian  village,  where  Nimpe-wa-pa  and  He-le-o-pa 
Hved,;and  where  the  foftner  was  killed,  is  now  embraced 
in  what  is  known  as  Central  Park,  where  the  shores 
slope  down  gradually  to  the  lake,  and  where  the  land 
is  thickly  studded  with  trees.  ^  It  is  a  .quiet  and  sequ^s, 
tered  spot,  and,  as  one  wanders  over  the  knolls  and  in 
the  valleys,  shadowed  by  thick  foliage,  in  imagination 
iie_ganjhpar  the  swm  spirit ^voicc  of  Hcle-o-pa  uiouiiu 
fully  wailing  for  the  loss  of/hcr  lamented  lo^en 


:\'' 


'  a 


J  -i 


N 


THE    MISSISSIPPI    RIVER    AND    ITS 

SCENERY.  V     • 

tHE  INFANT  RIVER  ONlly  SEVEN    INCHES  ACROSS^  IT. 

*         .  ■  .    .  * 

T^HIS.great  river,  upon  whose  broad  and  capacious 
1  bosonj  millions  of  bushelsof  wheat  will  yet  float 
to  the  Gulf  and  from  thence  to  Europe,  and  whose  al- 
most  entire  surface  in  a  few  succeeding  years,  will  be 
dotted  with  steamboats  unsurpassed  for  beauty  and 
excellence,   as  many  of  the  boats  now  are,  is,  in  a 

^straight  line,  measuring  from  its  source.  Lake  Itasca  — 
to  its  mouth,  the  Gulf  of  Mexico-eleven  hundred  arid 
sixty-four  miles.    By  the  channel  of  the  riv^r  it  is  two 
thousand,  eight  hundred  miles  in  length.    The  popula- 
tion  contiguous  to  the  Mississippi  river,  will  exceed 
24,ooo,cx)0,  or  nearly  half  of  the  population  of: the 
United  States,  and  in  ten  yeaf^s,  ;^ith  the  present  in- 
crease of  emigration,  the  population  in  the  Valley  and 
beyond,  will  reach  30,000,000,  ok-«  preponderance  of 
power  m  the  American  nation.    Thews  are  about  one 
hundred  cities  and  towns  on  th^^^ilver  from  St.  Paul  to 
St.  LouiA;  about  eight  above  Stv^Pau^  and  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  below -St.  Louis  to  the  Gulf,  njaking 
in  all,  two  hundred  and  fifty-eighjl^  cities  and  towns  on 
the  nver  from  its  source  to  its  mouth.    This  great  vat 
ley  of  the  Mississippi  contains  768,900,000  ac^' of  the 

finest  lands  In  the  world.  suffinVnt  trt  milri^wi^rc 

Y^^^^^dt^^nd  fifty  states  as  large  as  if a^chuSfetts. 

It  emb^es|(i<^re  temtoiy  than  Qn^Mklt^..^We, 

,„-   _,_^  .,      .,^,.^--  ^         ,     ^nr-,,,.    -If*-"  -.'■'-"-,■    Y- 


^' 


TnMJMBmfMr  - 


i  *^.    /•ii.i^.^i^r'ss     ^^ 


-*■ 


■iW~ 


84 


THE  MISSISSIPPI   RIVER 


Spain,  Austria,  European  Turkey  and  Italy  combined.,. 
If  peopled  as  thickly  as  MassachusettsT  it  would  con- 
tain  four  times  the  present  population  of  tW*United 
States;  if  as  populous  as  France,  it  would  hold  as  many 
as  now  inhabit  the  whole  of  Europe. 

H   L.  Gordon,  in  his  Legejids  of  the  Northwest, 
sweetly  sings  i  ^ 

"Onward  rolls  the  ^oyalRIvW,  proudly  sweeping  to  the  sea.  *  " 

Dark  and  deep  and  grand,  forever  wrapt  in  myth  and  mystery.  •       * 
Lb,  he  laughs  along  the  highlands,  leaping  o'er  thegranite  walls  ;  ' 
Lo.  he  sleeps  among  the  islands,  where  the  ibon  her  loV^r  calls.      ' " 
'   Still,  like  some  huge  monster  winding  downward  through  the  prairie4» 
plains,  ,  '  * 

Seeking  rest  but  never  finding,  till  the  tropic  gulf  he  gains.  ' 

In  his  mighty  arms  he  claspeth  now  an  empire  broad  and  graiidp      *' 
In  his  left  hand  lo  he  gfiaspeth  leagues  of  fern  arid  forest  land;  1 
In  his  right  the  mighty  mountains,,hoary  with  etemgl  sriow^  ♦ 

Where  a  thousand  foaming  fountains  singing  seek  the  plains  belo#.-     ' ' ' 
fields  of  corn  and  feet  of  cities,  lo  the  mighty  river  laves  "^ 
Where  the  Saxon  sings  his  d|tties  o'er  the  swarthy  warriom'  graves." 

The  first  boat  to  ascend  the  Mississippi  riv^r,  was  the 
Virginia,  in  May,   1823,  pr  sixty-one  years  ag©.    She    * 
was  a;  stern-wheeler—length  1 18x24.     Now  the  fleet  of 
boats  from  St.  Louis,  owned  by  two  companies,  hiim- 
ber  twenty  daily,  and  among  them  are  several  which 
will  easily  accommodate  five  hundred  passengers.    The 
Virginia  might  have  cost  $15,000 ;  one  of  the  present    . 
boats  alone  cost  $40,009^  and  the  whole  amount  invested* 
in  the  Mississippi  steamboat  trade,  will  r4cli  $2,000,- 
boo,  and  everything  indifcates  a  vast  increase  of  t^ 
upon  this  immense  river,  w^ieflTsooner  or  later,  must  . 
become  the  thoroi^hfare  for  western  grain  to  the  sea-  - 
COSkst  and  to  Europe.  . 

Contemplating  the  pa&t'and  realizing  the  present,  I 


,A' 


■      ...    "A     '       ■ 


AND  ITS  SCENERY. 


H 


W'-i'"  "■ 


^, 


can  appreciate  Mr.  Gordon's  further  allusion  to  the 
Mississippi,  when  he  says: 

' '  On  thy  bosom,  Royal  River,  silent  sped  the  birch  cajH*, 
Bearing  brave  with  bow  and  quiver,  on  his  way  to  war  of  woo- 
NOW  with  flauntiSg  flags  and  streamers^-migbty  monsters 'of  the 

to  the  puffing,  pantirig  steamers,  through  (he  foaming  waters  sweep- 
;  Afld  behold  the  grain-fields  golden,  where  the  "bison  grazed  of  eld,        • 
See  the  /anes  of  forests  olden  by  the  ruthjess  Saxon  felled,— 
Huitte4pm«»  that  spread  th«rshado3wereColupi^)us  spread  hissalfs 
Firs  that  fringed  the  mos»y  m«adoiirt  ei^  the  Mayflower  braved  thk 

.Iron  oaks  that  nourished  bnUfl-iHiilethfeVikhgsroame^^^ 
Crashing  fan  in  broken  ruin  for  the  greedy  mart?^f.gain.M 

Recent  information  would  indicate  that  the  Miis^si. 
sippi  river  has  its  source. from  anotl^  lake. than  that 
of  Itasca,  and  which  is  alleged  to  be  ra^ch  largw  .Ind 
handsomer  than  tha  historical  sheet  of  water  which,  for 
so  many  years  has  been  claifned  to  b^  the  source  of  ^he 
greet  Father  of  Waters.  ',       •      '^  •         ;   ^l 

The  first  white  man  who  ever  taw  Lake  Itasca,  wa* 
Schoolcrafe,  in  the  year  1^832.  •  Some  twenty  yearj» 
later.a  party  of  explorers  visited  the  lake,  who  describe- 
it  as  a  three-pointed  star,  and  out  of  some  eight  thou- 
sand lakes  in  Minnesota,  in  shape,  there  is  not  another 
one  like  it.  Within  about  t^o  and  a  half  miles'of  the 
lake  can  be  seerf  a  little  rill  of  water;  meandering 
through  the  marsh,  and  this  little  rivuIeV,  measuring 
only  "  .  -        » 

SEVEN  INCHES  .ACROSS  IT,  .  ' 
is  the  Infant  Mississippi,  and  the  little  lake,  only  a-mlte 
long  and  not  so  wide,  i«  where  the  first  d;-op^f  water 
in  the  river  comes  from.  Tf  in  now  rlwirtipd  f'hnt  two 
other  lakes  exist  abiove  Itasca,  and  that  the  furthermost 
onc.isthc  real  souteeel  jhe.  Mississippi,  but  time  and 


)m 


tk. 


t6 


THE  MISSISSIPPI   RIVER 


^W 


research  will  be  necessary  to  establish  this  assertion^, 
beyond  a  doubt. 

The  scenery  on  the  Mississippi  river  equals  Anything 
the  traveler  finds  in  Europe.    The  many  points,  bayte, 
promontories,  bluffs,  canyons,   prairies  and   beautiliA 
landscapes  which  meet  tbe  eye,  afford  a  neveryceasing 
source  of  pleasure,  and  the  tourist  on  the  boat,  being 
free   from   dust   and    the  jostle   of    the  c^rs,   enjoys 
serenely  the  bracing  air,  ^s  it  invigorates  his  lungs,  or 
plays  with  his  hair,  or  cools  his  fevered  |j|ow,  while  the  i 
palace  steamer  plows  her  way  northward,  or  descends 
southward,  riding  the  water  like  a  thing  of  life^J   Mill- 
ions of  dollars  wiltyet  be  expended  in  imp^o^g  this 
^reat  thoroughfare,  which  will   drain-^a  vast  empire 
beyond  of  its  wealth,  bring  into  existence  thousands  of 
miles  of  railroads,  and  build  up  a  city  at  the  Jiead  of 
navigation,  unequaled  in  population  and  in  wealth  by 
any  metropolis  in  the  West.    And  then,  for  ages  and 
ages,  as  in  the  past  so  in  the  future,  the  Mississippi  will 
continue  its  ceaseless  flow,  murmu^ng  its  lullaby  dirge 
over  thousands  of  those  who,  to^lay,  mingle  in  the  great 
throng  of  our  busy  life,  but  w^ose  memories  will  be 
washed  away  by  the  waves  of  the  great  river  as  they 
dash  against  the  shores  and  obliterate  the  land  marks 
6f  time.         /  s 

••  Faintly  flow,  thou  falling  river, 
Like  a  drtam  that  dies  away,  " 
Down  to  ocean  gliding  ever, 

7~  —    Keep  thy  calm,  unrufiRed  wayi  -r      ^ 

'"     .  Tlnvs.  with  such  a  silent  motion,       ,  C 

/    Floats  along  on  wingi^of  air,  „' 

/To  «>K>mUy'.  Horl,  »/.>ffl||, 


Buryiiic  all  its  ueasi^vi  thtft.^ 


->, 


^^^mm. 


\i- 


rut   BATTLE  FOR  THE  APRON. 

V-^RjpUS  tribes  of  Indians  have  variQus  modes  of 
puhishmehts  for  the  -various  violations  of  their 
laws;  ))ui  it  is  only  among  the  Indians  of  the  far  West 
where  it  lis  left  for  the  women  of  the  tribe  to  punish 
the,  mafibs  for  certain  injuries  received.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  a  good  idea  to  introduce  thig  custom  among 
the  whites,  in  which  case  unprincipled  men  would  be  > 
brought  to  feel  the  full  force  of  injured  innocence,  aiid 
society  woolcf  be  greatly  benefited  even  by  the  intro- 
duction of  new  ideas  more  radical  than  our  oWn,  re- 
specting the";  punishment  of  men  for  a  crime,  which 
needs  only  the  Indian  mode  of  treatment  to  effect  a 
positive  cure.  Let  us  admit  that  we  can  learn  some- 
thing even  from' the  savages.  A  writer  for  the  New 
York  Sun,  pens  the  following  as  occuring  at  Poplaf 
river,  Montana,  among  a  tribe  of  Indians 'known  as 
the  Yanktonais :  r  V        ., 

J'  Recently  there  was  witnessed  here  one  of  the  most 
singular  scenes  of  Indian  life— the  punishment  by  four 
Indiap  girls,  the  daughters  of  Polecat,  of  a  young  Indian 
hunter  who  had  assaulted  one  of  their  number."  The 
following  description  is  that  of  an  eye  witness^: 

"  The  tribe  forms  a  huge  ring  in  which  the  savage 
who  provoked  the  animcatty  of  the  Polecat  family,  is 
summarily  thrust.  He  looks  sullen  and  dogged.  He 
has  a  hkrd-  fight  before  him,  and  he  knows  it ;  but  he  i» 
a  man  of  his  hands,  and  he  mcai>8  lu  wtJH  Ihuw  girli~ 


out  if  tt  lies  in  his  muscle  and  prompt  and   effectual         ^ 
work.    He  may  strike  them  anywhefe  above  the  bicast,         - 


ftliiii 'I'tfi'tlBiii    fill  -L--.-^:-. 


^1 


«ilil 


88 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  APRO^.' 


and  kill  themi  if  a  blow  in  the  neck  will  do  it,  but  biili 
•  lets  and  arrows  are  ready  for  him  if  he  strikes  foul. 
The  girls,,  on  the  other  hand,  must  take  dTfif  his  apron* 
If  they  accomplish  that,  he  is  disgraced  to  the  utter- 
most moment  of  his  life,  driven  from  his  tribe,  left  to- 
starve  on  the  prairie,  and  all  Indians  cautioned  against 
harboring,  feeding  or  as§ociating  wi'th  him.'   The  in-- 
jured  woman,  is  allowed  to  have  .such  squaws  as  she 
may  select  to  assist  her.     But,  if  she  chooses  too  many 
t6  effect  her  purpose,  it  is  a  disgrace  to  her;  a)bd  so 
she  is  careful  to  select  only  enough  to  make  the  battlfe 
nearly  equal.  ! 

"The  Polecat  girls  are  the  belles  of  the  Yanktonais 
tnbe.    If  a  squaw  can  be  pretty,  these  girls  are  beauti- 
ful ;  and,  by  virtue  of  their  attractions  and  their  fathers' 
possessions  in  horses  and  other  satisfactory  property 
they  are  the  aristocrats  of  the  camp.     Perhaps  for  that 
reason  they  ask  no  help  in  their  present   dtadertak- 
mg ;  and  for  that  reason  also,  perhaps,  their  savage  sis- 
ters giggle  and  exchange  whispers  as  the  four  girls  step 
into  the  ring  and  approach  the  waiting  buck.    All  five 
are  in  full  war-paint     Down  the  hunter's  ch^eeks  and 
along  his  neck  are  alternate  sepia  and  green  and*  yellow 
stripes  on  a  background  of  brilliant  red,  while  his  chest 
sid^s  and  back  ar^  tricked  out  with  rude  pictures  of 
guns,  bows  and  horses.    The  girls  have  sm^aiStfek 
faces  with  a  coatii^  of  red,  over  which  lies  another  6f 
green,  striped  with  yellow.     Their  hair  is  unfastened  at 
the  back,  and  the  ftx>iit  \o(fks  are  braided  w{th  o.tter 
fur.     Each  wears  a  skirt  and  leggings ;  but  their  blank- 
ets  are  laid  aside,  and  their  muscular  hrown  .^^  ^^^^ 


ft 


displayed, 
/^ere  arc  no  preliminaries.    The  g|rls  dash  at  th«^ 


1 

still 

/ 

the 
her- 

THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  APRON. 


89 


enemy  and  attempt  to  gr^sp  him^  If  all  hands  manage 
to  get  hold  of  him,  half  the  battle  is  accomplished. 
But  he  meets  tl^j^squarely  and  fairly,  planting  a  cruel 
blow  between  th^res  of  the  girl  he  had  injured,  know- 
ing that  if  she  is  finished  he  can  compel  her  to  call  off 
the  rest.  She  is  the  general' of  the  attacking  forces 
and  the  prime  object  of  attack.  Over  she  goes  like  a 
pin-wheel ;  but  she  is  up  again,  her  face  streaming  with 
blood  and  her  eyes  swelling.  The  elder  girl  has  con- 
tfjlyed.to  secure  a  waisthold,  and  locked  her  hands  behind 
his  back.  His  fists  fall  upon  her  upturned  face  with 
frightful  force ;  but  she  keeps  her  hold.'  The  two  other 
girls  are  pressing  him  hard  from  behind,  but  his  elbows 
work  like  battering-rams,  and  one  steps  back  with  her . 
hands  pressed  tightly  to  her  breast  and  a  look  of  agony, 
in  her  eyes.  Now  he  Whirls  suddenly,  planting  ponder- 
ous blows  upon  the  face  and  head  of  the  girl  who 
her  knees  still  cling^  to  his  waist  with  a  death-gfip. 
He  fairly  raises  her  from  the  ground  as  he  spin^but 
her  hold  never  relaxes. .  - 

"  His  earlier  victim  again  dashed  at  him/and-  |s  re- 
warded by  a  crashing  stroke  on^j^fc  moixtpf.  Sh^  reels, . 
but  recovers  ai^d  ^arts  again  to^refeivc/his  fist  on  her 
netk  with  a^force  that  whirls  her  half  a  dozen  paces  off 
and  drops  her  like  a  log.  Not  a  virbfd  is  spoken.'  The 
thud  of  his  fists,  and  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  Strug- 
gling contestants,  are  the  bnly^ounds.  The  last  rally 
of  the  prostrate  girl  has  enabled^the  rear  party  to  catch 
the  buck.and  one  has, twined  herS^tqis aijbund  his  neck, 
while  the;  other  hai%s  to  his  wrkt.  His  left  hand  il 
stiUfree,  arid  it  fairly  ty^^inkles  irthe  air  as  he  batters 
the  maiden  at  his  waist.  Her  grasp  is  like  iron,  but 
her  head  reels  and  mays  as  his  .hu^vy  haod  faUs  on  ft 


I-- 


7 


1 


i^. 


l>-: 


r>" 


90 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THl  APRON. 


With  i  noise  gip^hes  the  farthest  side  of  the  irreg- 
ular ring, ,  Her  ejres  are  closed  arid  her  h||||h  comes 
convi^vely.  Were  the  fourth  girl  there  #fasp  that 
anUi,  the  fight  would  soon  end.  ^ 

"The  girl  behind  is  choking  him,  and  he  employs  new 
tactics.    Grasping  the  kneeling  girl  ^y  the  throat,  he 
pounds  the  face  of  the  one  behind  him  with  the  back 
of  hjs  ttead.    No  vanity  prompts  her  to  let  him  go. 
She  tightens  her  grip  and  buries  her  face  in  the  back 
of  his  neck.;The  fourth  girl  is  up,  staggering  and^ 
dazed.    Brushing  the  blood   from  her  eyes  with  an 
angry  motion  she  ^approaches  him,  crouching  as  she 
moves.     If  the  blow  he  has  in  store  for  her  reaches  the 
mark  he  will  have  another  chance— for  the  girl  at  his 
waist  is  growing  faint,  and  he  can  easily  dispose  of  the" 
other  two.    She  comes  at  him  like  a  cougar.    The 
blow  is  dehvered  full  upon  her  breast;  but  she  grasps 
his  wrist  a«B|rithes  up  his  arm. 

"  ^^^^PP^set  with  danger.    The  two  at  his  arms 
and. the  ^Mfit  his  waist  pull  him  forward;  the  girl 
behind,  stilf  i^trangling  him,  throws  her  weight  on  his 
back.    In  vain  he  attempts  to  straighten.     The  kneel- 
ing girl  bends  in  her  despairing  struggle  until  her  hair 
hangs  on  the  ground.    The  other  three  show  the  mus- 
cles rigidc  in  their  arms  as  they  press  him  down  upon 
their  kneeling  sister.    Suddenly  he  springs  backward 
with  a  marvelous  effort  dt  strength.    The  fainting  giri 
at  hi?  waist  finds  her  hands  torn  apart.     But  that  tri- 
umph was  his  defeat.    With  a  crash  he  comes  to  the 
ground,  three  giris  upon  him.    One  plaints  herself  on 
his  face,  and  the  other  two  kneel  on  his  arms.    Thprf> 


18  a  struggle,  and  tlien  the  youngest  rises  with  a  wil^d 
yell,  waving  the  apron  in  her  hand.    Her  yeU  is  echocjj 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  APRON. 


91 


by  a  low  moan,  as  the  mother  of  the  prostrate  hunter 
staggers  out  of  the  circle,  and  by  a  grunt  of  satisfac- 
tion, as  Polecat  recognizes  the  victory  of  his  girls. 
4"  To-morrow,  somewhere  up  the  river,  that  disgraced 
buck  will  be  found  with  a  bullet  in  his  brain.  Down 
in  Chief  Polecat's  lodge  four  bruised  and  weary  girls 
are  mending  each  other's  wounds  with  sisterly  solici- 
tude, and  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  camp  a  bent  old 
woman  looks  wistfully  away  to  t^North,  where  the 
shadows  have  swjcdlowed  up  the  mtk.  of  the  disgraced 
warrior.**'::-"     \''^  :-':■■M'^■:■\S:■^■'■ 


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T"l 

"        -      ■;                                                                   ,  " 

''^^^^^M" 


■t^'  r^     ^'  ■■     -»  -rs^ 


■^Sf^K.'  ' 


>* 


■  ,  JJ 


1-^ 


A  WHITE  QUEEN. 

HOLE-INITHE-DAY,  a  noted  Chippewa  chief,  al- 
i«ady  alluded  to  in  these  gages,  when  on  a  visit 
to  Washington,  fell  in  love  with  one  of   the  servant 
girls  at^  a  hotel— I  think  the  National— and  on  pro- 
posing,  in  regular  white  man's  style,  he  was  accepted 
and^the  two  lovers  were  married.     The  white  wife  re- 
turned West  wifh'  the  chief  and   was  duly  installed 
queen  of  the: tepee  a^  his  home,  which  act  aroused  the. 
ill-will  of  his  several  squaws,  and  soon  after,  as  Hole-in- 
the-Day  was  riding  along  the  road  leading  to  his  dwell: 
ing,  he  was  assassinated  and  killed;  and" thus  ended 
the  cireer  of  one  of  the  most  celebrated  Chippewa 
warriors  who  e^tr  held  power  over  an  Indian  tribe. 
Soon  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  the  white  queen 
abandoned  the  Indian  mode  of.  living,  and  for  aught 
we  know,  may  have  married  again,  and  probably  has, 
but  histoiy  will  give  her  the  credit  of  being  the  only 
white  Indian  qu^en  who  was  ever  elevated  to  an  In. 
dian  throne — such  as  it  was — and  that  is  fame  enough 
for  any  ambitious  girl,  either  American  or  Irjslj. 

98 


AN  INDIAN'S  THEORY  OF  TH^^LES- 

TIAL  BODIES. 

HAN-YE-TU-WE  (NIGHT  SUN),  AN-PE-TU-WE  (DAY 
SUN),  AND  THE  STARS,  \yHO  ARE  THEIR  CRII^ 
DREN. 

T^HE  Imdians  have  a  very  peculiar  idea  of  tHe  heav- 
X  enly  bodies,  and  the  theory  they  advance  has  in 
it,  to  the  unsopHisticated  mind,  a  go^  deal  of  common 
sense  and  some  reason.  *Of  course  a  person  of  intelli- 
gence rejects  their  ideas,  knowing  them  to  be  erroneous, 
and  yet,  the  untutored  savage,  drawing  his  notions 
from  nature,  reasons  out  a  very  plausible  and  a  very 
•satisfactory  solution— to  them— of  the  heavenly  visi- 
tants as  they  come  and  go  in  their  seasons  and  startle 
them  with  their  changes.  Every  tribe  Has  its  great 
nian  who  gives  these  subjects  his  especial  study,  and 
the  common  Indian  receives  them  as  emanations  from 
the  Great  Spirit. 

H.  L.  Gordonpin  his^^^eresting  work,  says:  '*.  - 

"  Wa-zi-ya,  pronounijil  Wah-iee-yaht  is  the  god  of 
the  North  or  winter;  d  fabled  spirit  who  dwells  in  the 
frozen  North  in  a  great  tepee  of  ice  and  snow.  From 
his  mouth  and  nostrils  he  blows  the  cold  blasts  of  win- 
ter.  He  and  I-to-ka-go  Wi-cas-ta— the  spirit  or  god  of 
the  South,  literally  the  south  man — are  inveterate  ene- 
mies and  always  on  the  war-path  against  each  other. 
In  winter  Wa-zi-ya  advances  southward  and  drives  I-to- 
ka^go  before  him  to  the  summer  island ;  but  in  spring 


[  ^^k| 


94  AN  INDIAN'S  THEORY  OF  THE^, 

*he  god  of^the  South,  having  renewed  his^^outh  and 
strength  in  ,th6  happy  hunting  grounds,  is  able  t6 
drive  Wa^zi-ya  back  again  to  his  icy  wigwam  in  the 
North.  Some  Dakotas  say  that  the"  numerous  granite 
1  boulders  scattered  over  the  prairies  of  f he  West,  were 
hurled  in  battle  by  Wi-zi-ya  from  his  home  in  the 
North,  at  I-to-ka-go  Wi^as-ta. 

"  He-o.ka  is  one  of  the  principal  Dakota  deities.  He 
IS  a  giant,  but  can  change  himself  into  a  buflfalo,  a 
bear,  a  fish, 'or  a  bird.  He  is  called  the  anti-national 
god  or  spirit.  In  summer  he  shivers- with  cold;  in 
winter  he  suffers  from  heat;  he  cries  when  he  laughs 
ind  he  laughs  when  he  cries.  He  is  the  reverse  of- 
•mature  in  all  things.  He-o-ka  is  universally  feared  and 
evered  by  the  Dakotas.  "  •►  , ' 

^  "All  Northern  Indians  consider  tjic  East  a  myster- 
ious and  sacred  land  whence  comes  the  sun.  Their 
name  for  the  East,  is  Wee^yo^hee-yan-pa,  the  .sunrise. 
Ihe  Chippewas  ^all  it  Waub-o-nong-the  white  land, 
or  land  of  light,  and  they  have  many  myths,  legends 
and  traditions/elatiiM^ereto. 

"  The  Dakotas  b^B  that  the  Aurora  BoreaHs  is  an 
evil  omen  a;id  the.threatening  of  an  evil  spirit-perhtps 
Wi-zi-ya,  the  winter^godVsome  say  a  witch,  or  a  very  ugly 
old  woman !  When  the  lights  appear,' danger  threatens 
and  the  wdtrriors  shoots  at  and  often  slay  the  evil  spirit, 
but  it  rises  from  the  deaii  again." 

Most  Indians  befieve  that  the.  st^rs  kre  the  spirits  of 
theu-  departed  friends;  that  thunder  is  produced  by  the 
flapping  of  the  wings  of  an  immense  bird ;  that  the 
mi%  way  is  the  bridge  of  stars  that  spans  the  vast  sea 
of  the  sky,  and  the  sun  and  moon  walk  over  on  it. 
Mr.  Ri^s,  in  his  " Tah4ioo  Wa-kan,"  says,  "that  the 


•^^ipw^? 


WJA^. 


CELESTIAL  BODIES. 


95 


Indians  believe  that  the  sun  an^  moon  are  ^win  broth- 
ers, but  that  An-pe-tu-wee— the  sun— is  the  |nore  pow- 
erful/  The  I  moon  receives  its  power  from  his  brother 
and  (Jbeys  Him.  lie  watches  pver  the  earth  when  the 
sun  sleeps.  The  D^otas  belieVe  that  the  sun  is  the 
father  of  life.  Unlike  the  most  of  their  gods,  be  Js 
beneficent  and  kind;  yet  they  worship  Ijim  in  the  most 
dreadful  manner."       - 

Other  tribes  of  Indians  have  similar  beliefs,  among 
which  are  the  Piuies,  and  this  brings  us  to  the  legend 
6f  t^  celestial  bodies,  as  narrated  by  an  old  Piute  med- 
icine man,  who,  being  called  upon  to  express  his  opirt- 
ion  of  a  moving  comet,  filled  his  pipe,  stirred  jiip^  the 
embers  of  a  smoldering  fire,  .and  in  broken  English, 
said:  * 

"The  sun  rules  the  heaven.  He  is  the  big  chief; 
the  moon  is  his  wife  and  the  stars  are  his  children. 
The  sun  he  eat  him  children  whenever  he  can  them  j 
catch.  They  are  all  the  time  afraid  when  he  is  passing 
through  the  above.  When  ^e,  their  father,  the  §yn, 
gets  up  early  in  the.  morning,  you  see  all  the  stars— his 
children^fiy  out  of  sight,  go  away  into  the  blue,  and 
th^y  dh  not  make  to  be  seen  again  till  he,  their  father, 
is  about  foi*  going  to- bed— down  deep  under  the 
ground— deep,  deep,  in  a  great  hole.  Here  he  go  into 
this  hole,  and  he  crawl  and  he  creep  till  he  come  to  his 
bed ;  so  then  sleep  th^re  all  the  night.  This  hple  is  so 
little  and  he,  the  sun,  is  so  big,  that  he  cannot  turn 
round  in  it,"so  he  must,  when  be  has  ha4  all  his  sleep, 
pass  on  then  through,  and  we  see  himfjjkt  morning 
come  out  in  the  East.  When  he,so  comes  out,  he  begins 
to  hunt  up  through  the  sky  to  catch  and^at  ai 
he  can  eat  of  the  stars,  his  children.     |ie,  th 


>jf ' 


96 


Al«  INDJAN's  THEORY  OP  THE 


not  all  seen ;  the  shape  of  him  is  like  a  snake  or  a  lizt 
ard.  It  is  not  his  head  that  we  can  see,  but  his  stom- 
ach stuffed  with  stars  he  has  times  and  times  devoured.' 
His  wife,  the  moon,  she  goes  into  the  same  hole  as  her 
"husband,  to  sleep  her  naps.  She  has  always  great  fear 
of  him,  the  sun,  that  have  her  for  his  wife,  and  when 
he  come  into  the  hole  to  sleep,  she  long  not  stay  there 
if  he  be  cross,  -^ 

"She,  the  ilioon,  have  great  always  fear  of  him,  the 
sun,  that  have  her  for  his  wife/ and  when  he  come  into 
the  hole  to  sleeep,  she  Jong  not  stay  there  if  he  be  cross.  • 
She,  the  moon,  have  great  love  fdr  her  children,  the 
stars,  and  is  happy  to  be  traveling  up  where  they  are. 
And  they,  her  children,  feel  safe,  and  smile  as  she  passes 
along.    But  she,  the  mpther,  cannot>help  but  that  one 
must  go  every  month.     It  is  so  ordered  by  Pah-ah,  the 
Great  Spirit,  that  lives  above  the  place  of  all.     Every 
month  he  do  swallow  one  of  his  children.    Then  the 
mother  moon  feel  sorrow.     She  must  to  mourn.    Her 
•  face  she  do  paint  it  black,  for  child  is  gone.     But  the 
dark  you  will  see  wear  away  from  her  face— little,  little, 
little  every  day ;  after  a  time  we  see  all  the  face  bright 
of  the  mother  moon.    But  soon  he,  the  sun,  her  hus- 
band, swallow  another  child,  and  she  put  on  again  her 
face  the  pitch  and  t^e  black." 

"But  how  about  the  comet?"  we  Inquired,  to  which 
he  replied: 

"  Well,  sometimes  you  see  the  sun  snap  at  one  of  the 
starj^'his  children,  and  not  get  good,  fast  hold— only 
tear  one  hole  and  hurt  it.     It  get  wild  of  pain  and  so 
across  1 


away 


sky 


l>-^^ff^ 


>  \ 


CEl^Tya^  BODIES. 


97 


tuhi  away  from  him  his  face  till  he  is  far  out-  of  his; 
reach.   ..^->    ;  IJ 

K,^\^u^^"'^'^"  P^^^^^  "P  ^'^  Stick,  wrapped  his 
blanket  abotit  him,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight!  leaving 
queer  impressions  of  his  peculiar  theoiy. 


P 


't 


y'-™rWi'*«|rap 


-J  ^ 


Mi  f 


«."-f-  .  ^  .. 


i9«*         ■"- 


THE    INNER    LIFE;   OR,   THE   BEST 
PART   OF  THE  INDIAN, 

WHILE  I  have  hitherto  given,  in  my  articles,  one 
side  of  the  Indian  character^  which  is  the  brutal 
part  of  his  nature,  it  would  be  wrong  in  me  not  to  give 
the  other  side  in  as  glowing  colors  as  .the  facts  will 
admit.  The  reader  should  remember  that  the  Indian 
male  child  is  taught  in  early  life,  to. hunt,  fish,  kill,  ^ 

travel,  roam  ffoiix  place  to  place,  and  to  exist  free  from  ' 

labor,  a^  we  view  it,  while  the  female  child  is  drilled  in 
the  arduous  duties  of  camp  life;  dressing  and  cooking 
the  food,  taking  care. of  childteh,  gathering  and  chop- 
ping  wood,   and,  performing  all    the    menial    duties 
inciden^t0«a>§age  existence.     The  Indian  who  travels 
.day  after  day  in  search  of  gapie,  considers  that  labor, 
and  this  is  so  deemed  by  the  squaws  themselves,  so 
that  whfn  the  gaime  comes   into   camp   the  women 
receive  it,  dress  it,  cook  it,  and  thus  the  labor  is  equally 
divided  between  the  males  and  females,  who  are  called  • 
upon  to  provide  for  the  necessities  of  growing  families. 
What  is  particularly  impressive  to  a  white  man,  is  the 
heavy  burdens  which  are  borne  on  the  backs  of  the 
w.omen,  while  the  men  carry  nothing  but  their  guns. 
And  yet  the  men  are  kind  to  their  wives  and  consider- 
ate to  their  children.     Of  course  woman  occupies  ^n 
inferior  position  among  the  savages,  and  she  gracefully 
submits  to  it  as  a  law  of  their  race.    As  one  tribe  of 
Indians  is  constantly  preying  upon  and  fighting  another 
>r  in  seii-ucicnac,  all  the  in^es  are  educated^  fof 


-,    ^  THE  INNER  LIFE;  OR,  THE  99 

war,  in  order  that  they  may  Tae  able  to  protect  theitt 
deferseless  women  and  childreif  from  their  enemy; 
and  hence  a  warrior  must  spend  his  time  iif  perfecting 
himself  for  battle,  instead  of  demeaning  himself  by 
work.  .  / 

•    Nothing  presents  a:  more  pleasing  or  a  more  affec- 
tionate  picture,  than  an  Indian  village  on  the  banks  of 
some  loved  lake,  Where  all  the  social  qualities  of  the 
skvage  are  brought  out  in  bold  light.    The  men^usually 
'  indulge  in  smokjiig  and  talking  of^ their  expl<5ts  In  the 
field,  while  th;^  old  women  sit  about  ,the  smoldering^ 
embers  of  the^  tepee,  and  dwell  in  recounting  exciting 
tales  of    tW  past,  and   the  children  gambol  on  the 
grassy  slopes;  or  amuse  themselves  in  th^ir  light  canoes. 
There  is  a/ degree  of  tenderijess  shown  in  these  scenes 
which  iy  not  visible  generally  to  the  casual  observer 
and  hence»  the  inner  life  of  the  Indian  is  tJie  best  part 
of  hirn.       ■  '  ^  . 

It/was  a  dark,  stormy  night  in  June,  1863,  when  I 
hear^  a  most  unearthly  sound,  resembling,  somewhat 
the  bowlings  of  a  dog,  though  more  shrill  and  more 
doleful;   and  leaving  .my  office,  then  located  on 'the 
frontier,  I  strolled  q||over  the  deserted  camp  of  our 
troops— just  left  for  a  limpaign  against  the  sav^es— 
and  proceeding  along  in  the*  darkpess,  followed  the 
sound  toward  a  friendly  Indian  lod^near  by,  where  wer^ 
the  women  and  children  of  the  scouts  of  the  little  army 
which  was  then  on  its  way  t^  chastise  the  Indians  for 
their  murderous  deeds,  committed  the    year  before. 
Again  came  that  horrible,  thrilling  sound,  electrifying 
my  system^nd  raising  my  hair  on  my  head,  but  I  kept 
"oninTh^e^iarfection  from  whence  it  emanated,  until  I 


V 


B^^koit/^a^^^^^ktf^ia&^iiMi 


mmm 


<f  .=  -^  -«--  -.^g^-^-g,^ 


"'I  , 

■-si?/ 
i.-* '  - 


-  '^- 


100 


BEST  PART  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


.ran  against  the  bayonet  of  one  of  our  guards  and  heard 
the  Sweden  challenge--^"  Who  goes  there?" 

In  the  excitement  o*f  the  moment,  I  forgot  Where  I 
was,  but  soon   regaining  consciousness,  made  myself 
known.  t<y  the  faithful   soldier,  passed  the  lines,  pene- 
trated   the  almost  impenetTabte   dackness,  entered  gi.. 
dingy  tepee,  an^  -there  confronted  tWo  squawsj  oive  of 
whom  JjfiJd  Th  her  arms  a  bundle  aiid  Was  swaying  to 
and  fro  over  the  slowly  bttrning  embers  of  a  few  sticks 
of  half-consumed  wood,  and  ever  and  anon  sending  up 
one  of  the  most  mournful  sounds  ever  heard  from  a 
human  throat.     It  swept  out  into  ,the  beating  storm 
like  the  mcoming  of  a  grfeat  wave  from   the  ocean 
which,  when  it  has  reached  a  given  point,  breaks,  and 
then  subsides  again  into  the  element  from  whence  it 
came..  Starting  in  a  low,  gurgling  sound,  this  "death 
wail"  asceaded  ^dually  higher  and  higher,  until  at 
last  it  culminatedltt  a  shrill  break  of  a  female  Voice, 
and  then,  before  the  sound  had  entirely  ceased;  it  was 
taken  up  again  by  the  other  squaw;  and  so,  during 
thaf  long  and  stormy  night,  came,  and  broke,  and  went, 
and  came,  and  broke,  and  went  again,'^above  the  raging,' 
tossing,  soughing  wfedsi  the  moanings  of  that  Indian 
mother,  and  her  friend,,over  the  little  bones  of  the  lit- 
tie  child,  encased  in  its  little* blanket  that  lay  in  its' 
parent's  arms.    Above  the  raging  elements  I  CQuld  hear 
the' following  sorrowful  wail:      (Translated  from  the 
Indian.) 

••  Swing,  swing,  Httle  one,  lullaby; 
Thou'rt  not  left  alone  to  weep; 
Mother's  cares  for  you— -she  is  nigh; 
Sleep,  my  little  one,  sweetly  sleep; 
^Swing^-awingrlUtletwe,  lullaby]^ 


Mother  watches  you— she  is  nighj 


■0 


■"f^ 


r- 


ITHE  INNER  LIFE;  OR^  THE 

Gen|ljr,  gently,  wee  one*  swing;  ^ 
Gentl)^  gently,  while  J  8ing,.5:;_^ 

E-we-wa-wa-lullaby. 
^  E-we-wa-wa-lunaby."' 


lOI 


To-morrow  would  see  it  pass  away  f/om  her  siglj** 
forever !  Her  grief  was  simple,  pure,  deep,  unaflfeHSd. 
Neither  of  these  mourners  noticed.my  intrusion,  and  so, 
knowing  .that  I  could  do  them  no  good,. I  went  out 
again  into  the  darkness,  threaded  my  way  to,  and  passed 
the  guard,  sought  my  office  and  my  couch,  and  dreaded 
all  night  of  a  golden-haired  little  gjxl  whom  I  had  left 
with  her  mother  inside  of  the  limits  of  civilization,  and 
whose  imaginative  Kttle  prattle  made  me  smile  in  my 
sleep  as  I  dreamed  of  home,  df  loved  ones,  and/of 
friends.  -  *   * 

The  Indians  have  a  peculiar  and  very  interesting 
custom  of  burying  with  their  children,  all'  their  little 
.trinkets  and  play-things,  believing  that  they  wifj  want 
them  in  the  happy  hunting  ground  beyond  the  river  of^ 
death.     They  also  have  a  cirstom  of  so  preserving  the 
bodies  of  their  children  after  death,  that  they  will  ap-' 
pear  natural  for  some  time,  and  when  this  naturalness   . 
has  disappeared,  and  the  skin   becomes  drawn   down  .'! 
tighly  over  the  features,  then  a^night  fs  set^^rt  for 
the  "death  wail,"  and  thenekt  day  the  little  one  passes 
out  of  their  sight,  and  with  it,  all  its  tiny^  earthly  pos-' 
sessions,  wrapped  up  together,  sometimes  the  body  tp 
be  elevated  in  the  air  on  poles,  as  protection  against 
wild  beasts,  and  sometimes  to  be  buried  in  the  earth 
beyond  human  vision  forever !  ^  .  ' 

The  morning  after  the  occurrence  to,which'  I  have 
4«deJ,  two  lont  Indian^wOTiren  moved^out  from  their  " 
humble  wigwam,  carrying  the  bones. of  Uhe  dead  child, 


I02 


BE'ST  P^T  of  the  INDIAN. 


and  chanting  a  low,  mournful-  soutid,  sldwly  wound. up  • 
the  hill  on  to,  the  pia'teau,  and  in  .plain  sight  of  th'e,' 
whole  camp,  deposited  in  the  gr6und  the  body  of  theif     ' 
little  darjing,  and  then  affectionately  bending  over  the 
wee  mound,  and»  leavihg  food  for  the  nourishment  of  ' 
the   child   on   its*  journey,  they  kissed   the  s^l,  ^nd 
wended  the^r  way  back  again  to  their  loliely  lodge,  to' 
_  no  longer  hear  th^  patter  of  the  littje  feef,  or' the  musiq 
of  theiittle  voice,  or  the  clasp  of  the  little  hand,  or  the 
touch  of  the' little  lip,  but  to  feel  an  unutterable,  jnc^m-V 
prehensible  void  tn  thk  aching  heart,  as  much  so' to  th^' 
Indiah  mother  as  to  that^  the  white. 

A  Mr.  Faraey,  who  has  but  recently  returned  from  a  ^ 
^visit  among  the  Sioux,  says  Ihat  he  never  saw  a  jollier 
camp  in  hig  life  than  a  Sioux  village.     The  men  sit  in  . 
their  tepees  and  smoke,  and  talk  over  their  battles,  and    '. 
'  relate  jokes  thai  are  received  with  unrestrained  grunts 
and  gurgles  of  laughter.     The  squaws  are  Soft-yoiced 
and  ^graceful,  and  show  a  genuine  mother  love  for  thaK. 
children.     He  met  a  squaw  when  out  on  a  sketching 
tour  with  his  -Indian  guide,  who  was  running  to  fetch  a 
medicine  man,  thirty  spiles  away,  to  cure  her  sick  baby. 
*  He  told  her  to  get  into  the  wagon,  and  he  would  take 
her  as  far  on  her  way  as  he  was  going,  and  he  say^  the 
woman's  grief  was  the  most  pathetic  thing  he  ever  saw* 
Her  face  was  covered  close  with",  her  blanket,  an^she 
sobbed  and  wept  evety  moment  of  the  way,  nearly  an 
hoXjr's  ride.     The  Indian  Rachel  refusing  to  be"  com- 
forted, and  the  dusky  girls  singing  softly  in  the  moon- 
light, are  what  strike  the  artist's  vision.  .  ,; 
Th^  Sioux  pluck  out  every  vestige  of  eyebrows  dnd 
^ccs^ a  briErhtr vermilion  rednand  a  ghastly 


/ 


^ 


yellow ;  they  move  without  a  sound  of  their  moccasfn 


*    ^  Xrn 


The  inner  lif^;- or,  the 


103 


up ' 

eif     - 

he 

of- 

nd    . 

to" 

sic. 

life    ; 


cMd  feet,  and  wrap  their  blankets  about . them  s(f  as  to  '^ 
'  conasal  their  face,. all  bi^  the  brow  and  nose  and  a^ir  '- 
of  lumtn'ous  black  eyes,  rendered  the  more  horrible  by 
lack  of  eyebrows.     Many  of  the  beardless,  ao^d   full- 
featured  braves  have  a  certain  serenity  of  manner  tliat 
reminded  the  artist  of  nice  old  ladiqs.     The  old  squaws, 
who  bear  the  burdens  of  life,  are  horribly  wrinkled  and^ 
worn.     A  Htths  girl,  six  y^ars  old,  was  arrayed  for  com-' 
pany  in  the  following- manner :    She  was  pa.inted  aline 
yermilion,  daubed  with  yellow,  and  wore  a  cape  stutided 
with  ejk  teethr;  worth  some  hundr^s  of  ^ollars. 

H«  assisted  ata  Sioux  muslcale  that  would  ha 
delighted  the  society  for  the  |gpvention  of  music', 
young  Indian  of  some  quality  sat  in  the  center'of  the 
tepee  with  a  big  drum  before  hirrv,  on  which  he  beat 
occasional  discords.  His,  young  friends  dropped  in  by 
twos  and  threes,  anci.each>^h"ammered  out  his  discord; 
snaked  a  pipe,  took"  a*  cup  of  hot  dog  soUp,  and  went 
his  way.  This  thmgwas  continued  all  the  afternoon, 
ajjid  was  a  swell  e^ent-ih  the  village.  »       . 

The"  outward,  or  exterior^  life  of  the  Indian,  is  war, 
revenge,  death,  brutality,  conquest !  r  Jie  is  so  educated 
from  childhood..  Traditionary  history  teaches  him  to 
never  forget  a  wrong,<^specially  on  the  part  of  another 
tribe*,  and  .these  ideas  are  inculcatfed  in  the  young,  and 
so  one  generat||>n  after  ar^other  possesses  this  blood- 
thirsty element.  Hisinner,ojp^domestic life,  is diflerent 
It  is  sel<lom''br  iever  we  hear  of  ^wife-miifder  among  the 
Indians,  or  of  divorces,  or  wrangling  ir\  his  family^  al- 
though this  sometimes  does  occur.  To  a  great  degree' 
Mlto^^d  sharesJaxommon.  with  his  jellow  Indians,  .i 
is  dependent  one  upon  the  other,  and  hence  ft  is  for  his, 
interest  to  be*  kind  to  his  family. artd  to  his  neighbors 


^l 


\.k 


V 


»* 


104 


BEST  PART  OF  tkE  INDIAN. 


•\/ 


:  Pnorto  the  introduction  of  the  customs  of  the  whites 
among  them,  no  nation  was  more  victorious,  and  no  peo 
pie  have  a  stronger  or  a  more  settled  belief  in  the  ex 
istence  of  a  Great  Spirit;,  and  in  the  hereafter,  than  the 
*  Indians.    Aside  from  his  war-like  proclivities,  which,  as 
I   have  already  said,  come  from   his  education,  he  is 
"  kmd  generous,  faithful  to  his  word,  brave,  affectionate, 
truthful  and  yet,  lurking  beneath  all.thesfc,  is  a  spirit 
of  treachery,  which  seems  to  be  a  part  of  his  existence. 
He  draws  his  m^piration  from  nature  and  is  therefore  a 
child  of  naturerandif  the  whites  had  never  wronged 
.  h^,  he  would  ii^ve  been  their  best  friend,  as  this  is 
abundantly  proven  by  the  early  history  of  these  In- 
dians  when  in  a  priiiiitive  state.      His  attachments  are 
.    strong  and  his  friendships  lasting.    Of  course  when  war 
has  been  declared  by  the  chiefs,  all  have  to  come  under 
the  rules  of  their  mode  of  fighting,  just  as  the  people 
of  the  South  sided  with  the  Southern  Confederacy- 
.   and  while,  therefore,  some  may  be  opposed  to  the  in' 
discriminate  slaughter  and  torture  of  the  enemy  yet 
all  must  conform  to  the  general  rule;  and  yet,  in  the  ' 
great  massacre,  In  Minnesota,  in.  1862,  Other-Day  and 
Uld  Bets,  and  their  companions,  defied  this  rule  at  the 
risk  of  being  killed,  and  very  materially  aided  in  saying 
the  lives  of  a  great  many  whites.  / 

It  is  pleasant  to  contemplate,  that  for  several  years 
past,  the  Indians  have  been  making  rapid  progress 
toward  civihzation,  and  in  the  next  ten  years  it  is  fair 
to  presume  that  they  will  become  an  agricultural  and 
herding  people  with  many  of  the  accessories  and  some 

^«vc:,i.iucnt^s~a  state  by  themselves.    They  are  rap- 


A 


:  Ai. ' 


THE  INNER  LIFE^  OF  THE  INDJtA^,     •         Ip5 

idly  drifting  toward  that  way.    Apropos  to  this,  I  find 
the  following  paragraph  in  a  late  Western  paper:. 
"Who  will  doubt  that  our  Indians  may  be  civilized? 
.  Young  Hole-in-the-Day,  son  of  the  old  Chippewa  chief 
of  that  name,  has,  with  a  number  of  Indians  from  the 
White  Earth  reservation,  been  industriously  working 
among  the   farmers  in  this » vicinity  during  harvest. 
Th^y  bear  the  reputation  of  being  good,  steady  labor-' 
er^at  binding,  shocking,  etc.    And  now,  as  we  write, 
.  Hole-in-the-Day  is  doing  the  band-cutting  for  a  thresh- 
ing outfit,  while. the  rest  of  the  Indians  are  teaming 
and  pitching  equally  well  with  the  white  men  on  the 
^e  job.     Hole-in-the-Day  has  ten  acres  of  wheat  of 
Wown  at  White  Earth,  and  the  others  there  have  as 
high  as  twenty  or  twenty-five  acres  each,  and  their 
crop^  will,  from  all  accounts,  compare  favorably  with 
any  in  this  section." 

Hole-in-the-Day,  the  Chippewa  chief,  to  whom  fre- 
quent mention  is  made  in  these  p^es,  was  the  father, 
of  the  present  young  man  to  jyhxj^f  the  above  reference 
applies.  A  quarter  of  a  century,  even  in  the  experience 
of  the  author,  has  made  great  aiid  material  changes  in 
the  character  ojf  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest,  and 
everything  indicates  a  more  rapid  advance  to  civiliza- 
tion in  the  future  than  in  the  past.  . <, 

When  the  exterior  life  of  the  Indian  has  been  out- 
grown, the  interior  man  will  develop,  and  this  develop- 
ment will  bring  to  the  surface,  a  bright  diamond,  now 
hid  amid  t;he  vast  rubbish  of  decaying  barbarism  and 
unparalleled  wickedness  on  the  part  of  the  whites. 


'&.       ij 


■■**■ 


;«/aicSi£»>i''-"*- 


,      r 


9- 


AN-PE-TU-SA-PA.* 

A  LEGEND  OF  ST.  ANTHONY  FALLS. 

VARIOUS  writers  on  Indian  history  concede  the 
fact  that  away  back  in  the  past,  an  Indian  wom- 
an committed  suicide  with  her  children,  by  floating  her 
canoe  over  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  and  the  legends 
seem  to  be  well  authenticated.  Among  the  many  ac 
counts  given  of  this  tragical  event,  We  find  the  state- 
ment of  Shoot-from-the-Pine-Tree,  an  old  Indian  whose 
mother  witnessed  the  scene,  as  the  most  truthful.  It 
is  told  by  Major  Stephen  H.  Long,  of  the  United 
States  army,  and  is  no'doubt  a  true  history  of  a  painful 
event.f.  The  narrator  says :  ^ 

"  A  young  Indian,  of  the  Sioux  nation,  had  espoused 
a  wife,  with  whom  he  had  lived  happily  for  a  few  years 
enjoying  every  comfort  of  which  a  savage  life  is  sus^ 
ceptible.     To  crown  the  felicity  of  the  happy  couple, 
they  had  been  ble^d  with   two   lovely  children,  on 
whom  they  doted  with  the  utmost  affection.    During 
this  time  the  young  man,  by  dint  of  activity  and  per- 
severance, signalized  himself  in  an  eminent  degree,  as  a 
hunter,  having  met  with  universal  success  in  the  chase. 
This  circumstance  contributed  to  raise  him  high  in  the 
estimation  of  his  fell6w  savages  and  to  draw  a  crowd 
of  admirers  about  him,  which  opera^ted  as  a  spur  to  his 
amlvtion.     At  length  some    of   his  newly  acquired 
friends,  desirous  of  forming  a  connection  which  iriust 

-^^ ^ -     .       ioe   ^-  •;,,■-.  -.^ ^.-. 


AN-PE-TU-SA-PA. . 


.107 


Operate  greatly  to  their  advantage,  suggested  the  pro- 
priety of  his  taking  another  wife,  as  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  one  woman  to  manage  his  household  Affairs 
and  wait  upon  all  the  guests  his  rising  importance 
would  call  to  visit  him ;  that  his  importance  to  the  na- 
tion was  everywhere  known  and  acknowledged,  and 
that  in  all  probability  he  would  soon  be  called  upon  to 
preside  as  their  chief.  His  vanity  was  fired  at  the 
thought ;  he  yielded  an  easy  compliance  with  ttfeir 
wishes,  and  accepted  a  wife  they  had  already  selected 
for  him.  -  \ 

"  After  his  second  marriage,  it  became  an  object  with 
him  to  take  his  new  wife  home  and  reconcile  his  first 
wife  to  the  match,  which  he  was  desirous  of  accom- 
plishing in  the  most  delicate  manner  that  circumstances 
would  admit.  For  this  purpose  he  returned  to  his  first 
wife,  ^o  was  yet  ignorant  of  what  had  taken  place, 
and  by- dissimulation  attempted  to  beguile  her  into  an 
approbation  of  the  step  he  had  taken.  ,<You  know,' 
said  he,  *  I  can  love  no  one  so  much  as  I  love  you  ;  yet 
I  see  that  our  connection  subjects  you  to  hardships  4id/ 
fatigue  too  great  for  you  to  endure.  ^'  This  grieved  ^ 
much,  but  I  know  of  only  one  remedy  by  which  you 
can  be  relieved,  and  which,  with  your  concurrence,  shall 
be  adopted.  My  friends,  from  all  parts  of  the  nation,, 
come  to  visit  me^  and  my  house  is  constantly  thronged 
by  those  who  come  to  pay  their  respects,  while  you 
alone  are  under  the  necessity  of  laboring  hard  iii  order 
to  cook  their  food  and  wait  upon  them.  They  are 
daily  becoming  more  numerous,  and  your  duties  are 
becoming  more  arduous  every  day.    You  trunf  hf  ^f  n 


siblc^  that  I  am  rising  high  in  the  esteem  of  the  nation, 
and  I  have  sufficient  grounds  to  expect  that  I  shall,  be* 


tf 


-^■^  ; 


AN-PE-TU-SA-PA. 

fore  long,  be  a  chief.  These  considerations  have  in- 
duced  me  to  take  another  wife,  but  my  affection  for^ 
you  has  so  far  prevailed  over  my  inclination  in  this 
respect,  as  to  lead  me  to  solicit  your  approbation  before 
I  adopt  the  measure.  The  wife  I  take  shall  be  subject 
to  your  control  in  every  respect,  and  will  be  always 
second  to  you  in  my  affections.'*'  „_  / 

'*  She  listened  to  his  narrative  with  the  utmost  anxiety 
and  concen>,  and  endeavored  to  reclaim  him  from  his 
purpose  refuting  all  the  reasons  and  prMences  his  du- 
phcity  had  urged  in  favor  of  it,  by  unanswerable  argu- 
ments, the  suggestions  of  unaffected  Wve  and  conjugdl 
affection.     He  left  her,  however,  to  meditate  upon  the 
subject,  m  hopes  fliat  she  would  at  length  give  over 
her  objections  and  consent  to  his  wi/hes.    She  in  the 
meantime,  redoubled  her  industry,  aAd  treated  him  in- 
variably with  more  marked  tender/iess  than  she  had 
done  before ;  resolved  to  try  every  riieans  in  her  power 
to  dissuade  him  from  the  execution/of  his  purpose.  She 
still,^however,  found  him  bent  ut/on  it.    She  pleaded 
,  all  the  endearments  of  their  form^'r  life,  the  regard  had 
for  the  happiness  of  herself  and.  the  offspring  of  their 
mutual  love,  to  prevail  on  him  to  relinguish  the  idea  of 
taking  another  wife.    She  warned  him  of  the  fatal  con- 
seqji^nces  that  would  result  to  their  family  upon  his 
taking  such  a  step.    At  length  he  was  induced  to  com- 
municate the  event  of  his  marriage.     He  then  told  her 
that  a  compliance  on  her  part  would  be  absolutely 
necessaiy ;  that  if  she  could  not  receive  his  new  wife  as 
a  friend  and  companion,  she  must  admit  her  as  a  neces- 
^•y  ^"^"";'^'-a"ce ;   at  all  events,  they  must  live  to. 
^^^'    Shr  was  determine^  however,  not  to  remain 
the  passive  dupe  of  his  hypocri^.    She  took  her  two 


1,. 


,^TT,V> 


iMi^'i 


"i^riff'W** 


"i^riff'tFWr     "jl 


AN.PE,TU-SA-PA. 


109 


children,  le|t  his  house  a^  went  to  reside  with  her" 
parents.   Soon  after  she  returned  to  her  father's  family, 
she  joined  them  and  others  of  her  friends  in  an  expedi- 
tion up  the  Mississippi  to  spend  the  winter  jti  hunting. 
*  "  In  the  spring,  as  they  were   returning  laden  with 
peltries,  she  and  her  children  occupied  a''canoe  by  them- 
selves.    On  arriving  near  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  she 
(lingered  by  the  way  till  the  rest  had  all  landed,  a  little 
above  the  "chute.     She  then  painted  herself  and  her 
children,  paddled  her  canoe  immediately  into  the  whirl- 
ing eddy  of  the  rapids,  and  commenced  singing  her 
death  song,  in  which  she  recounted   the  happy  scenes 
she  had  passed  through,  when  she   enjoyed  the  undi- 
vided affection  of  her  husband,  and  the  wretchedness 
in  which  she  was  involved  by  his  inconstancy.     In  his 
interesting  legends  of  the  Northwest,  the  author  gives 
this  death  song  in  the  following  lines:     '^1 

•  Ml-hi-hn-a  !  •  Mihihna !  my  heart  is  stone; 
The  light  has  gone  from  my  longing  eyes; 
The  wounded  loon  in  the  lake  alone 
Her  death-song  sings  to  the  moon  and  dies. 

•  Mihihna  !  Mihihna  !  the  path  is  long, 
The  burden  is  heavy  and  hard  to  bear; 
I  sink — I  die  I'^nd  my  dying  song 
Is  a  song  of  joy  to  the  false  one's  ear ! 

•  Mihihna !  Mihihna !  my  young  heart  flew 
Fay  away  with  my  brave  to  the  bison  chase; 
To  the  battle  it  went  with  n^y  warrior  true, 
And  never  returned  till  I  saw  his  face. 

'Mihihna !  Mihihna !  the  boy  I  bore— 
When  the  robin  sang  and  my  brave  wa8  true, 
I  can  bear  to  look  on  his  face  no  more, 


For  he  looks,  Mihihna,  so  much  like  you. 
♦  Mte-hMo-yah— My  btubaod. 


£ 


no 


V 


.,        AN-PE-TU-SA-PA.      V 

'  Mihihna  !  Mihihna  !  the  Scarlet  Leaf 
Has  robbed  my  boy  of  his  father's  love; 
He  sleeps  in  my  arms — he  will  find  no  grief 
In  the  star-lit  lodge  in  the  land  above.  • 

*  Mihihna  !  Mihihna  !  my  heart  is  stone; 

The  lightis  gone  from  my  longing  eyes; 
'  The  wounded  loon  in  the  lake  alone 

Her  dea^h-song  sings  to  the  moon  and  dies." 


"  Her  friends,  alarmed  at  her  situation,  ran  to  the 
shore  and  begged  her  to  paddle' out  of  the  current, 
while  her  parents,  in  the  agonies  of  despair;  rending 
their  cl&thes  and  tearing  out  their  hair,  besought  her  to 

■  come  to  their  arms.  But  all  to  no  purpose ;  her  wretch- 
edness was  complete,  and  must  terminate  only  with 
her  existence.  She  cdntinued  her  course  till  she  was 
borne  headlong  down  the  roaring  cataract,  an<^  instant- 

V  ly  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  belbw.    No  traces  of 

'  either  herself  arid  her  children,  of  the  boat  were  ever 
found  afterward.     Her  brothers,  to  be  avenged  of  the 

,  the  untimely  fate  of  their  sister,  embraced  the  first 
opportunity  and  killed  her  husband,  whom  they  con- 
sidered the  cause  of  her  death,  a  custom  sanctioned  by 
the  usage  of  the  Indians,  from  time  immemorial." 

It  is  alleged  that  the  spirit  of  An-pe-tu-sa-pa  sits  upon 
the  island  below  the  Falls,  at  night,  and  pours  forth 
her  sorrow  in  song;  and  it  is  also  stated,  with  a  consid- 
erable degree  of  certainty,  that  there  are  parties  who, 
on  moonlight  evenings,  can  see  the  fated  canoe,  with 
the  unfortunate  mother  and  her  innocent  children, 
rushing  swiftly  along  into  the  jawsHif  death. 


MY  LAST  NIGHT  IN  A  SIOUX  INDIAN 

■^  CAlVfP.  . 

^^HE  year  fpllowing  the  great  Indian  massacre, 
A  wherein  .nearly  one  thousand  innocent  settlers 
lost  their  lives,  Qen.  SiWey  was  authorized  to  fit  out  an 
army  of  troops  then  ready  for  the  South,  and  pursue 
the  guilty  sayages  and  annihilate  them,  if  possible,  but 
at  any  rate,  drive  them  into  and  across  the  Missouri 
river.  The  latteij  point  he  accomplished,  and  he  was 
sagacious  enough  to  see,  that  previous  to  starting  out, 
it  was  essentialij^ecessary  to  have  Indian  scouts  to 
pilot  his  army  ovei'  the  trackless  plains  and  detect  the 
movements  of  the  enemy  j,  so  he  chose  from  those  sav- 
ages then  at  his  command,  such  ^  number  as  he  could 
trust,  and  in  order  to  secure  good  faith  on  their  part, 
they  agreed  to  leave  their  women  and  children  \n  his 
possession  as  hostages,  during  their  absence,  j  The 
camp  of  these  friendly  Indians  was  located  several 
miles  from  oursown,  for  various  reasons,  among  ^hich 
Vere,  that  they  would  be  removed  from  the  viciotjsness 
of  the  soldiers,  and  would  act  as  an  outlying  or  alaiming 
post  to  the-  main  camp..  The  only  man  among  ^hese 
friendly  Indians,  was  a  fat,  pussy  half-breed,  b^  the 
name  of  Le  Rock,  who  had,  general  charge  ofltheir 
wants,  and  as  none  of  the  soldiers  had  permission  to 
enter  the  Indian  line,  of  course  they  were  as  secluded 
as  though  a  thousand  miles -away.     My  duties  as  jpom- 


missaiy  arrd  QuarterffiasteiTWougTTf  me  in  daily  V:on- 


1' 


tact  with  t 


ians,  and  I  had,  therefore,  njiore 

m 


m- 


IfiT'-'^i 


mmmm 


112 


MY  LAST  NIGHT  IN  A 


favorable  opportunities  for  observa^n  than  others; 
ahd  to  their  credit,  let- me  ^ay,  I  never  had  occasion  te- 
find  fault  with  any  of  their  acts.  The  women  used  to 
come  into  my  office,  and  by  way  of  banter,  call  me 
"squaw  foot,"  a  name  they  gave  me  in  conseqiiehce  of 
the  smallness  of  my  feet ;  but  they  were  never llrouble- 
some,  never  meddlesome,  never  impudent.  \ 

An  Indian  girl  is  the  very  essence  of  timidity,  and 
this  is  especially  so,  if  she  is  beautiful,  and  when  con- 
frontmg  a  white  man,  she  will  cringe  and  dodge  and 
peep  from  behind  her  mother,  and  even  blush  as  the 
eye  of  the  spectator  is  fixed  upon  her.    The  older 
women  were  modest  and  retiring,  and  I  never  knew  one 
to  enter  my  office  unless  invited,  which,  I  must  confess, 
was  an  exception  to  a  general  rule  in  Indian  character' 
for  they  usually  bob  in  and  out,  when  and  where  they- 
please.     Perhaps  the  fact  that  I  fed  these  Indians,  and 
that  they  received  full  and  good  rations,  led  them  to 
suppose  I  was  «  Wa-kon,"  or  sacred,  for  they  well  knew, 
from  actual  experience,  that  the  general  run  of  Govern- 
ment officers  was  to  steal  from  them  all  they  could. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  they  entertained  the  highest  regard 
for  mp,  and  I  can  only  account  for  it  on  the  ground 
that  I  dealt  fairly  and  justly  by  them. 

The  rush,  the  bustle,  ^nd  the  excitement  of  the 
,camp,  had  come  and  gone!  Three  thousand  soldiers 
^ere  trudging  over  the  plains  in  search  of  the  savages, 
while  only  a  few  men  were  left  to  guard  the  fort ;  and 
then,  after  several  weeks,  came  the  order  to ;« vacate," 
and  myself  and  brother  officers  began  picking  up  the 
odds  and  ends  of  the  camp,  preparatory  to  a  stampede 


toward  civilization.     While  in  IFe  midst  of  this  duty, 
appeared  Le  Rock,  who,  having  heard  of  our  contem^ 


.  M 


L'^^in  Jiji^i  ■fetk    .. 


PJZS 


SIOUX  INDIAN  CAMP. 


113 


plated  moving,  came  to  invite  me  to  spend  the  last 
nigbt  of  my  frontier  duty  in  his  tepee.  Indeed,  he 
conveyed  the  gratifying  intelligence  that  the  whole 
Indian  outfit  had  extended  the  invitation;  and  so, 
reasoning  that  probably  tliis  would  be  my  last  oppor- 
tunity to  mingle  with  the  uncouth,  yet  kindly-hearted 
red  people— and  time  has  demonstrated  the  correctness 
of  my  conclusions — I  consented  to  go. 

The  afternoon  of  the  evening  before  we  broke  camp 
was  beautiful.  I  buckled  on  two  loaded  pistols,  slipped 
a  large  knife  into  my  belt,  and,  calling  for  my  favorite^ 
horse,  mounted  and  turned  his  head  in  the  direction 
of  the  Indian  camp.  Nothing  was  more  lovely  than 
the  scene  that  met  my  view.  Stretching  off  for  five  or 
six  miles  was  the  Yellow  Medicine  valley,  and  from  the 
top  of  the  hills  that  lined  it  on  either  side  the  land- 
scape was  of  a  most  charming  character.  I  now  was 
on  ground  but  lately  traversed  by  Indian  war-parties ; 
on  ground  where  sickening  scenes  had  transpired ;  on 
ground  owned  by  the  Indians;  and  on  ground  but 
recently  the  home  of  Little  Crow,  the  great  Sioux 
chief,  who  had  instigated  the  war.  On  the  broW  of  a 
hill  to  the  left,  in  imagination,  I  could  see  the  family 
of  Joe  Reynolds  fleeing  fi^Otn  the  infuriated  savageif; 
could  hear  the  screams  of  th€  females,  as  the  red  devils 
made  hot  pursuit;  could  hear  the  crushing  of  the 
tomahawks  into  the  skulls  of  two  of  the  women;  could 
see  the  struggling  Miss  Williams,  trying  to  get  free 
from  a  fate  worse  than  death ;  could  almost  feel  the 
presence  of  the  enemy  at  my  side.  My  courage  failed 
■"^f '  ^^  ^  turned  back ;  and  yet,  how  beautiful !  how 


\ 


± 


stnn  how  grand!     Nature  never  looked  more  charm 
ing,  more  inviting,  more  loyely.    "  No,"  I  soliloquized, 


T3ar 


iJitttfham^ 


PHI 


-S,^»^«.J 


y  I 


f 


114 


MY  LAST  NIGHT  m  A 


I  Will  go  ahead;  it  is  my  last  chaifte,  and  if  I  fall 
by  the  bullets  of  some  Indian  spy,  who  may  be  lurking 
in  the  neighborhood,  my  wish  is  to  die  at  once ;  not  by 
a  hngering  death  of  torture;  and  then,  plucking' up 
courage,  I  turned  my  horse's  head,  and  was  soon  on  a 
brisk  canter  up  the  valley; 

Arrfvingat  the  camp,  the  first  to  greet  me  werfe. 
about  fifty  dogs,  whose   furious  barking  was  echoed 
back  from  the  hills;  thett "followed  the  imposing  figure 
of  Le  Rock;    then  fifty  newly-painted  female  [Cacesy 
with   large,   luminous  black  eyes,   peeping  out  I  from 
under  shawls  and  blankets,  and  tepees;  and  thi  low 
giggle  and  soft  voice  announced  my  coming.     Le  Rock 
treated  me  with  gr^at  cordiality,  and  the  women  JbLld 
look  down  on  the  ground  and  laugh  at  my  feet.    There 
might  have  been  some  twenty-fiN^  tepees  in  all,  loqied 
near  the  edge  of  a  forest  and  contiguous  to  water/  but 
with  no  rule  as  to  regularity.     I  was  conducted  to  ekch 
one  of  these.tepees  and  formally  introduced,  and  tY 
later  in  the  evening,  was  invited  to  a  singing-schooL  «. 
which  all  the  women  were  present,  except  those  either 
unwelli  or  detained  at  home  by  sickness  in  the  famit 
This  singing-school  was  an  imposing  scene  in  Indiln 
Ufe,  and  was  intended  to  show  me  how  the  Indian 
were  progressing  in  civilization,  for-during  the  evening 
"Mary,  to  the  Savior's  Tomb,"  "Old  Hundred,"^ and^ 
other  familiar  religious  hymns,  translated  into  the  In- 
dian  language,  were  sung  by  the  girls,  and  apparently 
p^tly  enjoyed  by  thenj.    Then  followed  an  addrei' 
by  myself,  in  which  I  recapitulated  the  pleasures  1 6xpe. 
nenced  in  attending  singing-schooljn  J^ew  England, 
^d^inghome  with  the  girls.  jroupledJiyromplimfint 


i%^f'^'i 


"ST  envisions  to  their  excellent  behavior  and  the  ripid 


It 


i 


iSaiicSsatiiii:/ 


'X:'- 


ich 


\- 


1 


SlOUk  INDIAN  CAMP. 


•    "5 
progress  they  had  made.    A,good  man)^eyes  sparkled ' 
a  good  many  hps  smiled,  a  good  many  ears' tingled" 
and  a  good  many  chepks  blushed  when  thi  interpreter> 
conveyed  to  my  hearers  what  I  had  tfeen  saying;  and  . 
altog^her  it  was  an  enjoyable  evening,  for  I  hadrfor- 
^      gotten  that  the  husbands  and  fathers  of  these  very 
people  hacH>een  engaged  in  the  massacre  of  the  whites  .' 
the  y^ar  before ;  had  forgottenthe  peculiar  feelings  in    ^ 
he  afternoon  as  I  rode  tb  their  ^amp  •  had  forgotten 
the  dangerous  position'  I  was  then  in,  when  only  a  iew 
savages  could  have  killed  us^all;  forgotteilthat  I  had 
yet  a  mght  to  pass  through  before  mopiing  would  put 
me  inside^of  thf  circle  of  safety.     I  conscjled  myself, 
however,  with  the  thou^fjit  that  whatever  might  hap- 
penult  was  of  my  own  choosing,' and  what 'was  \o  be 
would  be. 

At  about  eleven  o'clock^^Le  Ro^k  escorted  me  to  his 
„         grand     lodge  which  differed  from  the  others  only  in 
size,  and  pointing  tg  the  post  of  "  honor  "—opposite  to 
the  entrance— directed  my  eye  to  a  feather  bed,  with 
pillow-cases,  sheets,  letc.     In  the  center  of  the  tepee 
wqs  a  poor  apology  for  a  fire,  while  on  the  right  was  ^ 
the  bed  of  aji^old  woman— a  Vidow  and  her  child— arid 
on  the  left  was  jhe  inviting  couch  of  my  entertaioer,   ' 
which  consisted  of  an  old  Buffalo  robe,  a  soiled  pair  of 
blankets,  and  a,  greasy  pillow.     My  bed  had  belonged 
to  oi*e  of  the  unfortunate  white  settlers  who  had  fallen 
a  yictim  to  savage  revenge,  ^d  had  l?een  carefully 
manipulated  for  m^^use.    As  it  was  a  very  warm  even- 
ing  m  June,  and  aa  r'had  a  strap  buckled  about  my     ^ 
,     body,  in  which  wete  two  '  ■ 


heavy  pistols,  and  there 


a  fire  m  the  tepee,  the  outlobk  for  a  cool  and  refreshing 
sleep,  wae  anything  but  pleasant ;  in  addition  to  which, 


•-ife 


^ 


■■.:;*^»';'S"- 


ii6 


MY  LAST  NJGHT  IN  A 


% 


I  was  determined  that  my  pistols  should  never  leave 
my  side,  and  consequently  coulj^  not  disrpbe,  so  that, 
after  I  had -thr|)wn  myself. Upon  the  feather  ted  and 
swallowed   a  half-dozen^^Kifs  of:  'smoke,  whick  was 
driven  down  into  the  lodge,  I  began  to  sweat  and  to 
mentally  swear  over  the  awful  plight  I  was  in,  and  yet 
I  could-  not  abuse  the  hospitality  of  one  who  iikckbeen 
so  kind..    Le  Rock  bundled  in  With  his  squai|6|J^or 
half-frightened-to-death,  ov^^worked  cr|g'iM-5tffe  in 
.6ne  minute,  was  in  a  sound  sleep,  hi^h^^readings 
bemg  like  the  swells  of  the  ' o(^m^d  ^'n  .he  got 
fully  under  way,  his  snoring  absol^^Pf^shook  the  lodge 
pole  and  dispelled.all  sleep  from  my  thoughts. 
■  And  there  I  lay,  sweating,  and  thinking  and  listening, 
the  smoke  making  the  water  run  from  my  eyes,  ^nd  the 
noise  outside  forcing  me  to  imagine  that  the  hostile 
Indians  were  about  to  make  an  attack  upon  the  caftip 
until,  all  of  a  sudden,  about  twelve  o'clock,  the  woman  ■ 
".left  shot  up  as  straight  as  though  putled  by  a  " 


on 


stiiKg,  crossed  her  limbs,  took  her  pipe,  gave  several 
puffs„uttered  a  grunt,  and  instantly  tie  son  followed 
thfe  example  of  his  mother.     .Passing%e  pipe  to  the 
lad,. the  old  squaw  aros%:Stirred  up  th^iying  embers' 
filled  the  tepee  full  of^^moke,  put  on^^a'uge  iron  pot'  ' 
and  gathering  up  a  dou^e-handful  of  the  entrails,  of  an  . 
ox,  givea  to  them  the  dlay  before,  placed  them  in  the 
pot,  filled  it  with  waJIyi^.  began  stirring  for  the  even- 
ing^^l.    "Good  ^HKl  said&^yg^f  mentally, 
"can  this  be  for  iflBPR^shaHTelude  this  terrible 
catastrophe?"  ..And  while  thus  devising  some  means 
to  escape  the  ordeal,  up  came  Le  Rock  like  an  arrow 


-who'scrzcdn 


^' 


-  -      „  ve  a  pulTaricrTmmediately  after 
followed  his  wife,  going  through  with  the  same  antics. 


/■« . 


[Ai 


>qr, 

in 


C    '■ 


i 


SIOUX  INDIAN  CAMP. 


ii; 


And  then  the  water  in  the  pot  bubbledaiid  bdled  and  the 
old  woman  stirred  in  th^dirt  and  more  smdce^wepj:  r 
^  ^down  upon  my  unfortunate  head  and  the  sWeat  poured 
^  off  jme  jn  great  drops,  but  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
what  to  do—/  wou/d  never  touch  thai  ^£r>^— and  if 
invited  to  do  ^o,  I  would  be,  sound  asleep,  '<  just  as  sure 
as  shooting!"  -     ^^  m^    '.  ,^ 

True  enough,  Le  Rock  approached  my  bed,  shook 
me— I  was  lost  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus— but.  finally 

:  came  to  consciousness,  plead  sicknessj^vas  v^ry ,  sorry, 
etc.,  and  at  last  was  permitted  to  go  om  with  my 
p'ieasurable  sweating,  while  my  con^ani(%  "waded 
in,"  and  disposed  o^  the  cofiteitts  of  that  six  quart  fot, 

/  inside  of  thirty  minutes;  and  then,  tumbling  over  Hke 
Ipgs  into  their  beds,  snoVed  until  morning.  I  (^  truth- 
fully say,  I  never  passed  'a  more  teiyible  nigA^  my 
life  than  on  this  occasion,  not  that  the  Indians  iere.tcy 
blame^for-it  was  their  modes,  their  habits, -th^  cus- 
toms— but  I  could  not  conform  to  them.  Hadldi^sted 
myself  of  all  fear  in  the  first  place?  settled  my  mindthat 

all  was  right  in  the  second  place,  partook  of  their  food- 
in  the  third  place,  smoked  their  pipe  in  the  fcwrth  ^, 

place— as  most  men  would  have  done-^it  is  quite  lik%  f 

I  should  have  oassed  a  pleasant  time,  but  memory  ac^ 
only  recalls  oife  of  the  most  horrible  nights— and  I  am 
glad  it  was  the  last— that   I  ever  spent  in  a  Sioux 
TndiaQ  camp. 


"I 


«t»« 


V 


■.^..  ...1=-..    J 


■  'A 


t.l 


PECULIAR  INDIAN  TRADITIONS. 


THEIR   BELIEF  IN   THE   SUPERNATURAL  -  ALL   SORTO 

OF  SPIRITS  THAT  ROAM  EVERYWHERE— 
"*""    "        ''     "SPIRITUAL  MEDIUMS.  ^    !      '      " 

/^N5_ffho  is  familiar  with-  Indian  history  cannot 

\^  but  be  impressed  with  the  universal  belief  that 

prevails  among  all  the  savage  tribes  of  the  existence 

of  spirits  that  dwell  everjrwhere/and  roam  throughout 

.thedomamof  this  material  world;  nor  can  he  forget 

that  they  have  an  abiding  iaith  in  a  future,  which  they 

term  the  "happy  huntin^ground."    They  say  that  the 

bridge  of  souls"  leWs  from  the  earth,  over  dark  and 

stormy  watera,  to  the  spirit  land.     The  Indian  deity  is 

supposed  to  be  invisible,  yet  everywhere  present ;  he  is 

•  !w    T.  ^I"'"  ''^'  ""^*  *°"'''  «"«•  that  after  deatfi;* 
fW  **'."*  ^'«»d°''«  well  goes  to  the  warm  cotfutiy, 

It.1  k5\u    ,"  I""'*'  *••"  ''°<'y-    When  a  Dakota  is 

has  entWed  mto  his  body,  and  the  principal  business  of 
the  mtdicne  man"  i,  to  cast  out  the  unclean  spirit 
wi  h  incantations  and  chanps.  Nearly  all  the  Dakotas 
believe  inwitches  and  witchcraft;  and  they  hold  that 
the  mifl^  way"  in  the  heavens  is  the  pathway  of  the 
spins;  and  also  believe  that  over  this  pathway  the 
spirits  of  the  dead  pass  to  the  spirit  land. 

,,lit  ";'"■'■  "  ^'"  *^"""  ''P'"'  °'  »"'  ''^^  <:«•*«<  the 
earth  and  man,  and  who  formerly  dwelt  in  a  vast  tav- 


Al 


^=^S^3^ 


PBqtJ'LIAR  INDIAN  -JJlApiTIONS. 


119 


50RTS 


em  undej^the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  which,  they  be- 
lieved, were  In  the  center  of  the  earth,  and  from  which 
a  path  led  to  the  great  beyond.    This  Deity  sometimes 
reveals  himself  in  the  form  of  a  huge  buffalo  bull.  From 
him  proceed  invisible  influences.     Previous  to  forming 
4he  earth,  he    assenibled  in  grand  conclave, ♦all  the 
aquatic  tribes,  and  ordered  them  to  bring  up  dfrt  from 
beneath^the  wafers,  proclaiming  death  to  the  disobe- 
dient.   The  beaver  and  otter  forfeited  their  lives.     At 
last  the  muskrat  went  beneath  the  water;  and,  after  a 
^?ii^  time,  appeared  at  the  surface,  nearly  exhausted, 
wmriome  dirt.    From  this  Unk-te-hee  fashioned  the 
earth  into  a  large  circular  plane.    The  earth  being  fin- 
ished, he  took  a  deity,  one  of  his  own'  offspring,  and 
grinding  him  to.  powder,  sprinkled  it  upon  the  earth, 
and  this  produced  many  worms.    The  worms  were  then 
collected  and  scattered  again.   .  They  matured  into  in- 
fants, and  these  were  then  collected  and  scattered  and 
became  full-grown  Dakotas. 

Some  hold. to  the  theory  that  the  evil  or  bad  spirit  is 
what  is  called  a  Thupder  Bird,  while  others,  that  it  is  a 
great  black  spider,  which  inhabits  fens  and  marshes,  and 
lies  in  wait  (or  his  prey.  At  night  he  often  lights  a  torch 
—evidently  the  jack-o-lantern— and  swings  it  on  the 
marshes  to  decoy  the  unwary  into  his  toils.  The  Great 
Unk-te^heeand  the  Great  Thunder-Bird,  or  Great  Spider, 
had  a  terrible  battle  to  determine  which  should  be  the 
ruler  of  the  world,  but  Unk-te-hee  conquered. 

Carver's  cave  was  called  by  the  Dakotas,  "  Wa-kan- 
Tepee  "—sacred  lodge.    In  his  book  of  travels.  Carver 


# 


says :    "  It  is  a  remarkabTe  cave,  of  an  amazing  depth. 
The  Indians  term  it '  Wakan  tepee,'  thit  is,  the  '  dwell- 


.-jfe- 


,120 


PECULIAR  INDIAN  TRADITIONS. 


It  13  now  the  receptacle  for 


ing  of  the  Great  Spirit.' 
lager  beer." 

^  A  beautiful  belief  is,  that  the  stars  are  the  spirits  of 
their  departed  friends,  and  that  meteors  are  messengers 
from  the  land  of  spirits,  warning  off  impending  danger ; 

that  the  evenmg  star  is  the  Virgin  Star,  and  is  the  spirit 
of  the  Tirgm  wrongfully  accused  at  the  feast. 

fc.u  ^r  ^^^y  consider  the  Father;  so  they  believe 

♦the  earth  to  be  the  mother  of  all  life.    The  Indian 

swears  by  the   Father  as-" An-pe-tu-wee-hear  me; 

this  ,s  true.       They  also  pray  thus :     "  Wa-kan  !  Ate 

on-she-ma<ia!  Sacred  Spirit-Father !  have  mercy  upon 

Toon.Kan,  or  Inyan,  is  the  ston^^dol  or  god  of 
the  Dakotas.  This  god  dwells  M^e  and  in  rock, 
and  IS,  they  say,  the  oldest  god  ^o^^^jf-grandfatber  of 
all  living  things.  Some  writers  think,  and  with  consid- 
erable  reason,  that  the  stone  is  merely  t^e  symbol  of 
the  everiasting,  all  pervading,  invisible  Ta-koo-wa-kan 
-the  essence  of  all  life-pervading  all  nature,  animate  • 
and  inanimate.     Rev.  Mr.  Riggs,  says:      '  . 

"The  religious  faith  6(  the  Dakotas  is  not  in  his  god 
^l-"u  .u  ^*  '"  ^"  intangible,  mysterious  something  of 
which  they  are  only  the  embodiment,  and  that  in  such 
measure  and  degree  as  may  accord  with  the  individual 
fancy  of  the  worshiper.  Each  one  will  worship  some 
of  these  divinities,  or  neglect,  or  despise  others,  but  the 
great  object  of  all  their  worship,  whatever  its  chosen 
medium,  is  the  Ta-koo  Wa-kan,  which  is  the  super- 
natural  and  mysterious.  It  comprehends  all  mystery 
secret  power  and  divinity.  Awe  and  reverence  are  its 
due.- and  i»  ia  q«  ....i:^:4.-j  t-   ^     ^* — ^^^ ~    ;  


oucrand  It  18  4a  unlimited  In  mamfesfaR5n  as  It  is  In^ 
Ideas.    All  life  is  Wa-kan ;  so,  also,  is  everything  which 


PECULUR  INDIAN  TRADITIONS. 


121 


I  - 

exhibits  power,  whether  in  action  as  the  winds  and 
drifting  clouds,  or  in  passive  endurance,  as  the  boulder' 
by  the  wayside.  For  even  the  commonest  stick  and 
stones  have  a  spiritual  essence,  which  must  be  rever- 
enced as  a  manifestation  of  the  all-pervading,  mysterious 
power  that  fills  the  universe."  v         x  y     , 

God,  in  the  Dakota  tongue  is  Wa-kan-  Tan-ka,  which 
means.  Big  Spirit,  or  the  Big  Mysterious.     The  medi- 
cine  men  claim  to  be  aided  by  unseen  spirits,  and  hence 
are  ca^ed— "  men  supernatural."    They  assert  they  are 
the  sons  or  disciples  of  Unk-te-hee.     The  sacred  O-zu- 
ha,  or  medicine  sack,  must  be  made  of  the  skin  of  the 
otter,  the  coon,  the  weasel,  the  squirrel,  a  certain  kind 
of  fish,  or  the  skin  of  serpents.     It  must  contain  four 
kinds  of  medicine  (or  magic),  representing  birds,  beasts, 
herbs  and  trees,  vizr—The  down  :of  the  female  swan' 
colored  red,  the  roots  of  certain  grasses,  bark  from  the 
roots  of  cedar  trees,  and  hair  of  the. Buffalo.     From 
this  combination  proceeds  a  Wa-kan  influence,  so  pow- 
erful that  no  human  being,  unassisted,  can.  resist  it. 
Mr.  Riggs  says:    "By  great  shrewdntss,  untiring  in 
dustiy,  and  more  or  less  of  actual  demonical  possession, 
they  convince  great  numbers  of  their  fellows,  and,  in 
the  process  are  convinced  themselves,  of  their  sacred 
character  and  office."  , 

The  Good  or  Great  Spirit  is  called  "  Mi-cha-bo."  "  In 
autumn,  in  the  moon  of  the  falling  leaf,  ere  he  com- 
poses himself  for  his  winter's  sleep,  he  fills  his  great 
pipe  and  takes  a  god-like  smoke.  The  balmy  clouds 
from  his  pipe  float  over  the  hills  and  woodlands,  filling 
the  air  with  the  haz.e  of  Indian 


12Z 


PECULIAR  INDIAN  TRADmOKS. 


^, 


■9 


:i 


"  Ka-be-bon-ik-kHikis  the  god  of  storms,  thunder, 
lightning,  etc.  By  his  magic,  the  giant  that  lies  on  the 
mountain  was  turned  to  stone.  He  always  gives  war- 
nings before  he  finally  sends  the  severe  cold  of  winter, 
in  order  that  all  creatures  may  have  time  to  prepare 
for  it.  Jhere  are  also  water  spirits,  that  dwell  in  cav- 
ems  in  the  depths  of  the  lake,  and  in  some  respects  re- 
semble the  Urik-te-hee  of  the  Dakota.  This  is  a  Chip- 
pewa spirit.  ^  • 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable,  that  nearly  every  spirit- 
ual medium  in  this  country  and  in  Europe,  claims  that 
he  or  she  is  guided  by  an  invisible  Indian  chief,  and 
that  the  so-called  human  forms.that  are  materialized  in 
spiritual  circles,  are  produced  by  Indian  spirits.  The 
reasons  assigned  for  this  are,  that  the  Indian,  being 
more  closely  allied  to  nature  than  to  any  other ,race,  and 
believing  in  the  spiritual  theory,  having  ^ever  been 
hampered  with  religious  bigotry,  as  are  the  whites,  have 
less  to  overcome  when  they  pass  away,  and  have  greater 
power,  to  return  at  the  optiorj  of  their  will.  This  idea 
I  have  woven  into  my  Indian  legend  called  "  Min-ne- 
too-ka,"  and  by  perusing  ly  the  reader  will  get  a  very 
correct  idea  of  the  spiritual  belief  that  pertains  to  all 
Indian  tribes,  no  matte/how  savage  their  natures,  or 
how  domesticated  their  tastes. 

Major  James  W.  Lynd,  in  his  MS.  history  of  the  Da- 
kotas,  in  the  Minnesota  Historical  Society,  says: 

"  The  belief  in  the  powers  of  some  of  the  Dakotas  to 
call  up  and  converse  with  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  is 
strong,  though  not  general.  They  frequently  make 
feasts  to  their  spirits  and  ^licit  information  from  them. 


of  disTant  relatives^Ffrierids.     Assembling  at  night  in 
a  lodge,  they  smoke,  put  out  the  fire,  and  then  draw- 


Ka^r.^'asaa^-..  . _- i  . 


PECULIAR  II0IAN  TRADITIONS. 


123 


ing  their  blankets  over  their  heads,  remain  singing  in 
uhison,  in  a  low  key,  until  the  spirit  gives  «iem  a  pictt 
ure.  This  they  pretend  the  spirit  does,  and  many  a 
hair-erecting  tale  is  told  of  spirits'  power  to  reveal  hid- 
den things  and  to  communicate  unknown^lact^,  .    ^ 

"  In  1830  a  war-party  of  Sioux  Went  in  searcbof  the/ 
Chippewas,  and  those  left  at  home  becai^e  anxfous  io/. 
their  return,  when  an  old  woman,  ninety  years  of  age, 
■  said  she  would  consult*  the  spirits ;  so  a  lodge  was 
cleared,  a  small  fire  kindled,  and  the  old  woman  en- 
tered, closing  the  dooaafter  her  tightly.    Seating  her- 
self  she  lighted  the  black  pipe,  a|^d  after  smoking  for  a 
time,  laid  it  aside,  beat  out  the  firci  and  then  drawing 
her  blanket  over  her  head,  she  commenced  to  sing  in  a 
low  key,  in  anticipation  of  revelations  from  the  spirits. 
Crowds  of  women  ^nd  children,  with  a  few  old  men, 
'  surroufided   the   lodge,  awaiting  anxiously"  for  what 
should  happen.    Suddenly  the  old  woman  was  heard 
^  to  cry  out  as  if  in  extreme  terror,  and  hastily  throwing 
open  the  door  they  found  her  lying  upon  the  ground 
in  a  swoon.     On  coming  to,  she  related  that  she  had  a 
terrible  picture.     Fourteen  men  rose  up  frpm  the  west, 
bloody  and  without  their  scalps,  and  thirteen  rose  up 
up  from  the  east  with  blipd  upon  their  forms,  and  were 
in  the  act  of  falling.    This  referred  to  the  advanced 
body  of  the  Sioux  that  had  gone  ahead.    Four  days 
after  this  revelation  the  Sioux  came  home  with  foui^ 
teen  scalps,  but  with  thirteen  of  their  own  party  on 
biers,  which  confirmed  the  old  woman's  statement  in 
every  respect.     '  Certain  men  also  profess  to  have  an 
unusual  amount  of  the  Wa.^n,  ^r  divinf -prinriplp  in 
them.     By  it  they  assume  to  work  miracles,  laying  on 
of  hands,  curing  the  sick,  etc.,  and  many  more  wcaid^r-.* 


,f 


m '.  'jr^-^^^^M 


^H 


PECULIAR  INDIAN  TRADITIONS. 


ful  operations.    Some  of  thep*  prelerfd  to  recollect  a 
former  state  of  existence,  6veh  naming  the  particular 
body  they  formerly  lived  in.     Others  again,  assert  a^ 
power  over  nature,  and  their  faculty  of  seeing  into 
futurity  and  of  conversing  with  the  deities.'  " 

The  Arabs  believe  that  when  a  man  rises  up  front 
sleep  in  the  morning,  the  spirit  of  God  sits  upon  his 
right  shoulder,  and  the  Devil  on  his  left.  A  Turi-Arab, 
therefore,  on  awaking,  invariably  repeats  the  exercising 
formula:  "I  seek  refuge  in  God  from  Satan  accursed 
with  stones,"  sprinkling  himself  when  possible,  with 
water,  as  he  utters  the  ^ords.  Without  this  precaution 
they  believe  the  good  spirit  would  take  flight  and  the 
evil  one  would  remain  with  them  throughout  the  day. 
At  sunset  the  same  ceremony  is  repeated. 

For  some  information  contained  in  this  article,  out- 
side of  my  own,  knowledge,  I  am  indebted  to  H.  L. 
Gordon,  ReVs.  Riggs,  Neil  and  Pond,  all  of  whom  are 
excellently  well  posted  on  Indian  history,  and  are  the 
very  best  authorities  from"  whom  I  could  quote  as- 
to  the  beliefs  and  peculiar  traditions  of  the  Indians  of 
the  Northwest. 

An  old  soldier,  whose  name  I  cannot  obtain,  gives  to 
the  press  some  interesting  information,  that  was  con- 
veyed to. him  by  the  celebrated  Indian  Missionary, 
Father  De  Smet,  who  for  years  mingled  with  the 
Indians  on  the  Missouri  river,  and  who  was  among  the 
very  first  in  the  comitry  tp  discover  gold  in  the  Black 
Hills— after  whom,  the  celebrated  Father  De  Smet 
mine  was  named— but  who  studiously  kept  his  dis- 
covery  a  secret,  fearing  that,  if  known,  it  would  demor- 


y 


iirdians.  — Ttie^oTd  officer  ahdTthe  good  TatHer 
sat  dd>«{nt^ether  on  the  banks  of  the  muddy  Missouri, 


'  **  ^ 


,^     ...  4^  _ 


#!•■. 


I^ECULIAR  INDIAN  TRADITiOJirS, 


125 


pn  a  moonlight  night,  in  1870,  and  from  some  of  the 
experiences  of  his  thirty-five  years  of  missionary  lile, 
he  gave  the  following:  *       , 

"I  have  heard  a  great  many  traditions  among  the 
Indians  from  their  own  mouths,  speaking  and  under- 
standing, as  I  do,  many  of  their  languages.     Some  of 
these  traditions  are  very  poetical,  and  suggestive  of 
chapters  in  the  Scriptures.     The  Indians  all  believe  in 
spirits,  good  and  evil,  who  again  are  subordinate  to  the 
one  Great  Spirit.    When  the  young  man  becomes  about 
sixteen  years  of  age,  he  is  placed  under  penance.     That 
is,  he  is  put  by  himself,  generally  irfthe  woods,  arffl  is 
obliged  to  fast  as  long  as  his  constitution  can  stand  it. 
Sonie  of  these  aspirants  for  future  fame  go  without 
eating   for  seven   or  eight  days.    They  do   nothing 
during  this  time  but  sleep  and  di^am.    Toward  the 
end,  when  they  become  feverish,  they  speak  aloud  in 
their  dreams.     The  aged  parents  then  listen,  and  if  the 
young  man,  among  his  wandering  words,  mentJbns  any 
particular  plant,  tree,  bird,  or  animal,  the  name  of  such 
plant,  tree;  bird,  or  animal  will  be  that  of  his  particular 
spirit  all  through  life.    This  name  will  be  given  to  him 
after  some   appropriate  adjectives  have  been   added 
thereto.     He  will  wear  something   suggestive  of    it 
about  his  persoi),  and  it  is  firmly  believed  by  him  that 
this  special  spirit  will  assist  him  in  battle,  and  in  hunt- 
ing excursions,  and  that  he  will  stand  between  him  and 
danger. 

"  All  the  Indians  believe,  in  their  own  crude  way,  of 
a  future.  Their  idea  of  the  hereafter  is  that  when  one 
of  them  die&  he  is  piloted  ^r4M»-own  individual  apirit; 
toward  an  immense  island,  which,  far  off  to  the  west, 
rises  into  a  high  mountain,  reaching  into  the  clouds, 


^^h 


126 


x' 


I'- 


PECULUR  INDIAN  TRADITIONS. 


and  upon  the  summit  of  which  sits  the  Supreme  Spirit 
From  this  point  of  observation'the  Great  Spirit  overv 
looks  the  (Ihiverse.    He/e  He  puts  the  sun  to  bed  every 
night  and  sends  out  his  moon  and  his  stars,  and  hence 
he  launches   forth  when   angry  his  thunder  and   his 

fin  f -^L   ?l  '^^  ^'^^"^  ""'^  '^^  ^°«^  beautiful  rivers 
filled  with  fish,  and  the  woods  are  alive  with  buffalo 
and  other  desirable  game.     But  it  is  not  ever^  departed 
brave  who  is  permitted  to  enter  this  Garden  of  Eden 
To  reach  the  same  the  Indian  has  to  cross  a  very  wide 
and  rapid  stream  by  means  of  a  dead  tree  lying  across 
the  same.     In  the  middle  of  the  stream  and  a  few  feet 
from  the  natural  bridge,  just  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
wanderer,  hangs  >  grape-vine,  with   clusters  of  ripe 
grapes.    A  good  and  brave  Indian  will  cross  the  loe 
without  reaching  for  the  grapes,  for  he  is  str6 ^-hearted 
and  needs  no  refreshments  to  help  him  alcig  in  his 
jQurney,  but  the  faint-hearted,  cowardly,  lazy  and  bad 
Indian  will  go  upon  the  log  frightened  and  tired  out- 
he  will  grasp  for  the  grapes,  fall  into  the  torrent  and  be 
carried  to  a  marshy  place,  where  there  are  neither  fish 
nor  game,  save  a  few  coyotes  and  frogs. 

"The  origin  of  the  human  race  some  of  them  explain 
as  follows :  The  Great  Spirit  first  created  a  little  boy 
who  was  upon  the  earth  all  alone  for  jnany  years,  but 
the  boy  felt  lonesome,  became  melancholy  and  beean 
crying  until  he  fell  asleep.  Th^  spirit  then  sent  to  him 
a  httle  giri  and  she  was' called  his  sister  and  they  lived  ' 
as  such  together  for  many  years.  After  the  Httle  giri 
grew  up  to  be  a  woman  she  fell  asleep  one  day  and  had 

for  iL?"'^^^^^  ^/^  "'^"  "^^""^  ^^  ^^''  ^"^  ^"^  knocked 


^  -_,  —  ...„,  ^..^  ^„^^  ^^^J  iiocice  oi  tnem,  or 

opeijed  the  door  to  apy  of  ^hem  except  the'last  caller. 


PECULIAR  INDIAN  TRADITIONS.  12/ 

After  awdk€ning;  die  girl  thought  constantly  of  this 
dream,  and,  strange  enough,  in  the  course  of  time  fiv^ 
men  came  to  her  cabin  and  asked  her  to  go  with  them, 
but  she  refused  all  but  the  fifth  and  last  one,  who 
became  her  husband.    They  had  at  first  but  three  chil- 
dren,  one  was  called  the  Good  Spirit  and  intercessor 
with  the  Great  Spirit  and  the  special  friend  of  the  Indian 
race ;  the  second  was  calledthe  Spirit  of  Fire  and  de. 
struction  and  the  great  enemy  of  the  white  race;  the 
third  was  called  the  White  Rabbit,  and  ran  away  as  soon 
as  it  was  born.     Upon  the  ascendancy  of  the  white 
race,  the  first  one  fled,  the  second  is  now  with  them  in 
their  wars,  and  renders  them  brave;  and  the  third  occa- 
sionally appears  and  makes  thenx  fleet  in  their  hunts. 
They  are  now  awaiting  the  return  of  the  first  spirit. 
When  he  comes  he  will  right  the  wrongs  of  his  people 
and  they  will  conquer  all  their  enemies." 


J' 


l^fAl^ft'J 


'M  a'UJj  JfciL.i'-i      i-At 


\.     ,      ..( 


*.  ', 


•    THE  Game  of  ball     ■ 

A   THRILLING  SCENE  —  TREACHERY   OF  THB   INDIANS 

___^         _      ■(       ■.  ■■-•  .  -  ■         •  _ ,  •    ■ 

/  •  OUT>^ITTED.        ■ 

NOTHING  conduces  so  much  to  the  pleasures  of 
the  Indians, as  an  excising  game  of  ball,  or  a 
downright  good  dance.    In  these  games  their  peculiar, 
excitable  characteristics^  a/^  fully  developed,  and  both 
sexes  indglge  in  the  athl|j^  sports.    A  gattne  of  ball  is 
played  in  this  way:    A^-gSlall  place  is  prepared,  and 
staltes  are  set  for  bound^- radiating  from  the  center, 
when  two  parties  are  chosen,  with  leaders,  who  appear 
upon  the  field  with  bats  or  sticks  about   thirty-two 
inches4ong^,  to  catch  and  throw  the  bai;  as  the  game 
progresses.     "„^en  one  succeeds  in  gettftig  the^^all 
fairly  in  the  p^^t  of  his  bat,  he  swings  it  aloft  and 
throws  it  as  far  as  he  can  toward  the  goal  to  which  his 
party  is  working,  taking  care  to  send  it,  if  possible, 
where  some  of  his  own  side  will  take  it  up.    Thus  the 
ball  is  thrown  and  contended  for  till*  one  J)arty  succeeds 
in  casting  it  beyond  the  bounds  of  th^  ^posite  party. 
A  hundred  players  on  a  side  are  sometimes  engaged  in 
this  exciting  game.     Betting  on  the  result  often  runs 
high.      Moccasins,   pipes,   knives,   hatchets,   blankets, 
robes  and   guns  are  hung  on  the  prize-pole.      Not 
infrequently  horses  are  staked  on  the  issue,  and  some- 
times even  women.     Old  men  and  mothers  are  among 


the   specfatdrs,  pfafsmg  their  swift-footed   sons,  and 
young  wives  and  maidens  are  there  to  stimulate  their 

128 


THE  GAME  OF  BM 


12^ 


husbands  and  lovers.  This  game  is  not  confined  to  the 
warriors^-bnt  i$  also  a  favorite  amusement  of  the  Dakota 
maidens,  who  ge«eraily  play  for  prizes  offered  by  the 
chief,  or  mimors."^         '  ^  ^  ^ 

This  i-emiij(ds  me  of  a  most  thrilling  seine  which 
occurred  at  ilgameof  ball  at  Fort  Mackenzie  during 
he  timp  when  the  French  and  English  were  contending 
for  territory  now  belonging  to  the  United  States,  and 
had  It  not  been  fdr  the  keen  sagaci^f  the  commander  - 
of  the  post,  a  most  horrible  massacre  would  have  fol 
owed.     It  seems  that  the  early  French  traders  were 
favorites  with  the  Indians,  while  the  English  were 
looked  upon  as  interlopers,  so  that  when  war  was 
declared  between  the  two ,  nations,  the  Indians  sided 
with  the  French,  and  thus  combining,  made  sad  havoc 
with  their  enemy.    Thrfee  forts  had  been  estabhshed'in 
the  Indian  .country  by  the  English,  and  two  of 
forts  had  been  burned  by  the  treacherous.  sav»s,  and 
every  soul  killed.  .^  Flushed  with  the  recent '^rj^  the 
blood-thirsty  Indians,  with  a  large  iiumbet  of  men- 
women  and  children,  appeared  in  frpnt  of  the  third 
fort,  and  asked  for  an  audience,  as  they  desired  peace. 
Ihe  commander,  anxious  to  he^r  .what  the  chiefs  had 
to   say    made  his  appearatnce  on  the  ramjiarts  and 
learned  from  the  wily  foe  that  they  were  tired  of  blood- 
shed  ;  that  they  desired  to  bury,the  tomah^wl^  and  the 
scalping-knife,  and  to  ever  aftef  liv^  in .  harmony  with 
the  whites ;  so  an  arrangement  was  made  to  the  effect, 
that  on  the  morning  of  a  beautiful  day,  stipulated  by 
both  parties,  all  the  tribe  should  appear  on  thc^  plateaii- 
Jpelow  the^, fort,  men. •'^  > 


1,  women  and  children,  unannit^. 
and  while  the  chiefs  were  negotiating  a  peace  inside  dt 
*"«  tort,  the  warriors  outside  were  to  engage  in  a  game 


*'! 


w^  m, 


I-  A 


i^; 


THE  GAME  OF  iBALL. 


of  ball.  The  conditions  were  explicit,  that  neither  the 
soldiers,  nor  the'  Indians  were  to  ,be  armed,  and  this 
agreemeht'.was  made  as  an  earnest  of  good  faith.  The 
fort  was  located  on  a  high  "rise  of  land,  with  a  deep 
ditch  encircling  its  base  and  a  draw-bridge  leading  to  it 
at  a  given  point,  over  which  parties  npiust  pass  to  get~ 
inSide  of  the  inclosure.  "^.  -  — _iu-^ -^  _  J  _    — ^^^^ — ^_  ii_L  _ 


The  plain  below  was  level  and  beautiful,  and  the  can- 
non of  the  fort  frowned  down  upon  it.  The  day  for 
negotiations  arrived,  and  with  it  came  a  large  number 
of  Indians  with  their  squaws,  headed  by  their  chiefs ; 
the  bridge  was  swung ;  the  soldiers  appeared  unarmed 
and  listless,  lying  upon  their  guns ;  the  Indians  laughed 
and  joked ;  the  cfiiefs  passed  over  the  bridge,  which 
was  to  be  kept  down  as  a  passage-way  to  and  from  the 
fort,  during  the  counc^  meeting ;  the  glittering  eyes  of 
the  warriors  glanced  at  the  situation',  as  they  entered 
the  fortification,  and  then  passed  to  the  room  of  the 
commander,  where  they  were  met  with  the  dignity 
which  became  their  station.  The  room  was  a  long  one, 
on  either  side  of  which  were  blue  curtains,  and"  at  the 
,  end  of  which,  on  an  elevated  seat,  sat  the  cOrfimander. 
As  is  customary  with  the  savages,  they  squat  upon  the 
floor,  and  after  several  had  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace, 
commenced  to  discuss  the  terms  upon  which  they  had 
decided  to  agree.  In  the  meantime  the  game  of  ball 
had  been  started.  Hundreds  of  Indians  were  whoop- 
ing and  yelling  and  running  now  toward  the  fort,  now 
from  it ;  now  clustering  closer  and  closer  to  the  draw- 
bridge, always  preceded  by  the  squaws,  who  drew  their 
blankets  closely  abput  them  ;  now  receding,  now  coming 


back  again,  like  a  great  wave  of  the  ocean ;  while  the  sol- 
diers gazed  upon  the  scene  and  laughed  at  the  grotesque 


{v^r 


.■A~  .- . 


'iwt   liStS-'iiWil'iS, 


'^^Sl|^. 


THE  GAM4  OF  BALL. 


figures  moving  about  dotting  the  plain  below.    All  the 
chiefs  had  smoked  the  pipe  of  pea€€-ift-th^^ca 
chamber  but  one.    He  halted ;  seemed  anxious  to  gain 
a  little  more  time  and  better  terms,  when  the  game  of 
.    ball  on  the  outside  became  more  excitinf;  the  Indians 
rushed  toward  the  mclosure,  when/ with  a  terrible  yell 
which  came  from  the  tallest  of  the.  warriors  in  the 
crowd,  and  with  terrific  power,  the  ball  was  sent  into 
the  fort,  and  then,  with  another  yell  on  the  part  of  the 
rushing  Indians,  the  squaws  threw  off  their  blankets 
displaying  weapons  of  war,  which  the  Indians  seized' 
and  were  soon  clamoring  over  the  draw-bridge,  wild 
with  a  taste  for  blood. 

In  the  meantime,  when  the  last  yell  was  given,  the 
old  chief  m  the   council  chamber,  who  had  not  yet 
smoked  the  pipe  of  peace,  jumped  to  his  ffeet  and  an- 
swered It;  then  the  commander  of  the  fort  instantly 
gave  a  shrill  whistle,  and  every  gunner  had  his  torch 
ready  to  discharge  the  cannon  that  pointed  down  u«on 
the  crowd  below ;  every  soldier  was  arm^^^^ein,  ^an 
was  at  his  post ;  the  blue  curtains  parte  Astan«And 
two  rows  of  guns  confronted  the  treaJ^fe^^! 
The  old  Indian,  seeing  that  he  was  baffle^H&f^* 
other  whoop,  when  the  infuriated  devils  wh!^|  now 
crowding^upon  the  bridge,  suddenly  fell  back,  and  when 
still  another  yell  came  #om  the  lips  of  the  old  chief  it 
was  evident  to  the  Indians  on  the  outside,  that  their  plan 
of  massacre    had    been    discovered!     Not  a  muscle 
twitched  in  the  face  of  the  commandant;  not  a  soldier 
stirred  in  his  position ;  not  a  gunner  moved  who  was 
rommanded4o-di8pute4hej 


ofxhei 


en 


—  passage^.  w..v.  it«»ugt,  wucn 

another  whistle  from  the  commander  brought  the  men 
to  a  rest,  and  with  it  the  bridge  was  drawn,  the  fort 


I  $2 


THE  GAME  OF  BAtL. 


!-• 


was  saved,  and  the  chiefs  were  prisoners,  at  the  mercy 
of  the  whites!  Thfe  commander  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  then  addressing  his  niortified  foe,  said:  "You 
came  to  me  with  a  lie  upon  your  lips !  You  came  to 
me  with  the  belief  that  I  would  trust  your  lying 
tongues,  so  that,  in  a  moment  of  confusion,  you  could 

,  dash  upon  my  defenseless  men  and  massacre  them  all 
in  cold  blood !  But,  thank  God,  your  plans  have  failed, 
and  I  have  only  to  give  the  word,  and  both  you  and 
your  warriors  and  your  women  and  your  children,  will 

.be  blotted  from 'the  face  of  the  earth  forever !  See  my^ 
big  guns  pointmg  down  upon  them  ?  See  twenty  bul- 
lets aimed  at  y^ur  hearts !  Mark  my  ppwer  \  Treach- 
erous,  lying,  deceitfuf  dogs !  the  paleface  has  met  you 
with  your  own  weapons;  shall  he  deal  out  to  you  that 
which  you  intended  to  deal  out  to  him"?  No  5  if  the 
paleface  is  brave,  he  is  also  magnanimous !  If  the  pale- 
face has  beaten  you  by  precautionary  measures,  he  is 
also  generous  I  If  the  paleface  has  you  and  your  people 
in  his  power,  he  can  afford  to  be  great,  grand  and  mer- 
ciful!" 

Then  rising  and  waving  his  hand,  he  said  to  his 
astonished  enemies :  "  Go ! "  A  universal  "  ho !  ho ! " 
(yes,  yes;  bravo!)  followed  the  remark  of  the  officer, 
when  the  Indians  arose  and,  marching  boldly  to  the 
commander,  the  head  chief  said  : 

"  You  have  saved  the  lives  of  our  people !  .You  have 
saved  our  own  lives!  You  have  taught  us  how  to 
live!"  You^have  shown  us  that  the  heart  of  the  pale- 
face IS  good— that  the  heart  of  th^  Indian  is  bad.  We 
come  no  longer  to  you  with  two  tongues.  We.  rnme 
to  you  in  the  presence  of  the  Great  Spirit,  whom  we 
wish  to  bear  testimony  to  the  fact,  that  from  this  day, 


I  ^nw.V'*fc'^Fia^'    i..jW&?:rfS^,^*!;S^^IS4^ 


THE  GAME  OF  BALL. 


«33 


■  ^"*!/°'''^"  f^''  ^«  ^hall  always  be  the  friends  of  the 
whites,  who  have  not  only  convinced  us  that  they  are 
brave  and  merciful,  but  that  they  are  wise  and  mL. 
nammous.  We 'lay  our  lives  at  your  feet.  Ni«l 
shinnjrcar-nis  i-to— (Good  best  friends  forever)!"      ' 

"Go!-'  again  uttered  the  commander.  "Tell  your 
people  the  paleface  desires  only  peace,  futh.  man- 
hood  justice,  right,  and  if  they  wiUcome  to  hini  with 
one  tongue,  and  be  governed  by  the  principles  here 
enunca  ed,  that  then  we  can  bu^.  the  tomahLk  and 

peop^'"'Go';""'^'   ""'  '"'  '^'"'"^  ^S«»''-  -  ,0- 
The  chiefs  moved  out  into  the  open  space  of  the 
fort  wtth  a  bold  step,  and  passed  down  on  to  the  draw! 
bridge,  aniacross  it  to  the  plateaq  below,  where  they 
were  received  with  great  joy  by  the  baffled  warriors 
>vho  supposed  that  their  head  men  had  been  put  to 
death ;  and  when  it  became  known  how  magnanimously 
they  had  been  treated  by  the  commandant,  they  burst 
into  a  wild  weird  shriek,  that  went  booming  through 
the  fort  and  died  in  echoes  among  the  hills        .         • 
The  sun  went  down   that  night  on  many  happy 
hearts  within  the  fortification  and  on  a  happy  tribe^ 
Indians  who  h^d  resolved  to  lead  a  different  and  a  bet' 
ter  hfe  which  resolution  was  faithfully  kept  for  many 
years  afterward.  •  S»""^y 

Then  there  was  another  game  of  ball  on  the  same 
p  ateau  below  the  fort ;  another  scene  of  mirth ;  an- 

werrtr'^M-'""''''']"?"  """  """""«  '**  participants  ' 
were  the  soldiers  and  the  warriors,  ihe  commander  and 

the  chiefs  ;  and  then  handa  of  fricndjliip  weiewrasned  ' 

and  words  of  kindness  were  spoken  and  farewells  were 

uttered,  and  the  fort  was  vacated  and  the  soldiers  de. 


,4«4.vi.  i-:-^ 


134 


THE  GAME  OF  BALL. 


f 


parted,  and  the  red  men  of  the  forest  gathered  in  sad- 
ness about  their  tepee  fires  and  recounted  over  again 
the  memorable  scenes  of  a  most  remarkable  event — 
THAT  Game  of  Ball. 


t^  • 


1-^ 


i 


•I 


'>aJUi,&4 


^^^£h 


'^17'  -Tj^-i 


.4^  U     V*£4#l  »,4m^. 


'•'iet'^'iv^A   »jjci.lJ 


I 


J,.  ':  ;■•  ii 


ad- 

ain   \ 

t— 


ti 


•  o 


'  H 


PA-HA-WA-KAN. 

THE  SACRED  DESCENT,  O^  ONK-TO-MEE— BAD    SPIRIT. 
NE-BE-NAU-BAIG— WATER     SPIRIT,    OR. 

DEVIL'S    LAKE.         .  ' 

THIS  is  not  a  Sioux  legend,  but  was  told  to  Tac- 
angi  by  a  Blackfoot  woman,  who  had  been  long  a 
prisoner  among  the  Sioux.  Formerly  all  that  country 
lymg  between  the  Missouri  river  on  the  east,  and  the 
Rocky  mountains  on  the  west,  is  said  to  have' been  a 
garden  of  paradise  overflowing  with  game,  etc.,  but  as 
this  legend  runs,  was  changed  in  three  days  to  what  it 
now  is.  The  point  designated  is  no  doubt  what  is  at 
I*resent  known  as  the  Bad  Lands,  including  the  buttes 
which  appear  in  that  country,  and  the  legend  has  more 
in  it  than  the  casual  observer  would  at  first  suspect. 
The  Blackfoot  squaw  says : 

"An  Indian  band,  camped  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Missouri,  had  sent  to  a  few  of  their  brethren  who  werd 
located  at  the  foot  of  a  very  large  mound,  some  dis- 
tance  from  them,  to  say  that  for  three  days  the  Proph- 
et, or  Medicine  Man  of  their  band  had  been  in  a  swoon 
and  that  they  had  watched  him  during  that  time  and 
his  lips  had  never  ceased  to  move  as  in  prayer,  and 
begged  them  to  join  them  in  offerings  to  the  Great 
Spirit,  as  they  feared  some  calamity  was  about  to  befall 
them.  The  mound  Indians  were  a  desperate  clas»— a 
band  mostly  murderers,  and  knowing  t^#>.v  ^^n  wfcif 


cdness,  this  information  made  them  feel  sad.    Calling 
all  his  braves  together,  the  chief  told  them  the  newt- 
US 


t^^^ 
'  *-£• 


136 


PApHA-WA-KAN., 


what  he  had  heard  from  the  other  Indians— and  be. 
sought  them  to  go  each  one  at  onOe  -and  make  offer^ 
mgs.  All  did  so^  and  donning  gi^y  garments,  went  into 
mourijiflg.  That  same  night,  at  12  o'clock,  theliew 
who  slept  were  awakene^l  by  terrific  peals  of  thundii^ 
•  the  rain  falling  like  knives  upon  their  tepees,  the  light' 
ning  darting  apparently  into  their  very  lodges,  and  a  ". 
•^  wind  blew  that  threatened  every  moment  to  tear  their 
honies  to  pieces.    ^  • 

"  All  at  once  there  was  a  great  noise  as  of  crying  in  the 
camp.    Amid  confusion  and  bustle,  all  ran  out  to  see 
what  it  was,  when,  suddenly,  as  it  were,  the  whole 
heavens  gave  way,  and  fell  upon  the  top  of  the  mound, 
^  while  tjie  Indiana  1  threw  themselves  upon  the  ground, 
not  daring  to  look  up.    Again  the  heavens  seemed  to' 
fall  and  close  upon  the  mound,  and  this  time  accom-  • 
'      parired  with  great 'darkness.      Then  a  sudden  panic  , 
seized  upon  them'all,  and  with  one  accord,  they  rushed 
into  their  wigwam.     What  happened  furthermore  no 
one  knew,  as  they  recollect,  utrtil  morning,  when  awak-) 
ened  as  it  were  frojn  sleep,  although   they  had  not 
slept,  that  a  strange  sight  met  their  view!   The  mount- 
ains were  black  as  if  scorched  by  lightning;  whol*  ' 
country  deadened,  and  smoke  issuing,  frorii  the  top  of 
some  of  the  mounds.    One  night  had  rendered  the    ' 
county  a  desert.     They  looked  for  their  horses— all 
were  dead !  Then  in  camp  loud  itiouming  sounds  came 
from  the  women;  their  meats  and  provisions  were  all 
full  of  worms !    They  knew  then  they  muist  now  starve  - 
unless  they  moved  on,  and  amid  universal  lamentation^  * 
they  took  up  their  trail  and  marched  south.    Eveiy-    ^ 
where  th<i  ^^omitry  was  the  same.    At^night  ^otHfe  of 
their  mounds  spit  out  fire,  and-  will-o'-the-wisps  flofttcd  . 


PA-HA-WA-KAN. 


m 


around  everywhere,  trying  to  lure  them  to  4«strucfion. 
The  e^rth  rumbled  and  the"  air  was  thick  with  sulphur 
"For  three  days  they  traveled  thus,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  they  came  to  a  large  body  of  water,  where 
formerly  they  had  roamed  amid  a  luxuriant  sea  of 
tropical  plants,  and  where  birds  of  gay  plumage  sang 
their  morning  songs.    AH  was  now  dark,  gloomy,  and 
dead.    Gone  were  the  forest  songsters  and  the  young 
gazelle  with  its  dove  eyes;  gone  the  flowers;  gone  Ihe 
game;  gone  the  grand  trees,  and  the  gentle  summer 
breeze;  and  in  .their  places  were  a  vast  sheet  of  water 
with  upheavals  of  rock,  and  black,  smoldering  ruins,* 
and  dark  clouds,  and  curling  smoke,  and  gloomy  fig^ 
ures,  dancing. in  the  distance.  \They  changed  their 
course,  and,  winding  around  the  lake,  came  to  a  mound 
which  hid  the  water  from  their  view,  and  here  they' 
heard  what  appeared   to  them  to  be  human  voices. 
Ihey  hstfcned,  and  the  song  was  so  wild  and  so  weird 
that  they  could  not  stir— they  Were  spell-bound. ' 
V  'Changing,  swinging,  singing,  ringing/  :         . 

Dancing  Devils  all  are  we; 
^         Piping,  peeping,  peering,  creeping, 
Ho^  we  mingle  Jn  our  glee. 
.  Ho!  ho!  shoveUhem  In! 

Shovel  them  in!   ^  «  '.  ' 

Tis  the  reward  of  early^nf    •        .  , 

'Now  we  laugh  and  now  we  grioj 

He!  he!  and  ho!  ho!  •      '. 

-  Pitch  them  up  and  pitch  them  in,       '^. 

'*■.■_       vHe!  he!  and  ho!  ho!     .^  V   * 

T^  ^Along  the  slimy  banks  we  go,     TT  ^lf7"T  "~ 
"     )^ithjourhe!  he!  and  ho!  hoi'  '     ,     '' 

"  Several  of  the  Indians  stealthily  jregiTtojAi^p^lf 

^e^  mound  anTpcerfiig  over  beheld  a  scene  of^c  most 

startlmg  character.    ,0n  th«  nfeore  Nt  a  ihort  distance 


•bil.tiiiimit'r  iilfe'i..S4fa 


»-" 


138 


PA-HA-WA-KAN. 


from  them  was  a  very  large  anipial,  apparently  resemb- 
ling the  hunjan  race— with  enormous,  protruding  earg, 
peculiar  hoofs,  a  dark  swarthy  face,  horribly  distorted ;  a 
gay  fiery  sash  about  his  loins,'a  long  caudal  extremity 
resting  upon  the  ground,  ^nd  in  ^  his  hands  a  wooden 
pitchfork,  which  he  used  with  great  dexterity.    Gath- 
ered about  him  Were  no  less  than  a  thousand  young 
figures  resembling  the-  older  one,  an<i  when  they  sang 
they  all  swayed  to  and  fro,  pitching  into  the  lake  what 
appeared  to  be  human  bodies.    At  the  end  of  each 
v£rse  of  the  song  the  earth  rumbled  with  a  loud  nofse, 
fire^  belched  oult  from  the' many  small  mounds  surround- 
ing the  lake ;  dark,  pitchy  smoke  filled  the  atmosphere 
and  all  the  region  round  about  was  dense  with  the 
smell  of  suljphur;  and  ^tthis  point  the  song  became 
demoniacal,  and  the  dancing  figures  opened  up  to  the 
imagination  a  vivid  picture  of  hell  itself,  especially  as 
thev^swayed  batk  and  forth  and  sang  'He!  he!  and 
ho!  ho!'/    Confused,  Crigbtened,  horrified  at  what  they 
had  seen,  the  Iridiarfe  fan  down  the  mound,  over  the 
blackened  earth,  screaming  as  they  ran  '^onk-to-mee, 
Ne-be-nau-baig!'  .Devil-slake!  Devil's  lajc^;  and  from 
that  day  to  this  the  lake  ha^  ever  borne  this  peculiar 
name.    T^iey  continued  rapidly- 1on  their  march  south . 
for  three  days,  when  the  country  appeared  to  grow  bet- 
ter; and,  finally,  when  they  approached,  a  game  section, 
^  they  all  stopped,  offered  sacrifices,  and  thdp  only  did 
the  earth  cease  to  rumble  and  the  air  begiiii  to  be  oure. 
,  But  the  Indians  never  after  cpuld  ren|ainf  to   that 
country.       J    .    ::.v,;  ■  ,  M  ..  —^  '''-■.:-■  ■■ 

AThus,  for  the  sins  of  a  small  portion  of  a' nation,  was 
a  whole  peeplf  made  to  suffer,  and  a  country,  which"" 
before  was  a  paradise,  became  a  desert," 


c 


mity 
oden 
xath- 


c 


PE-HA-WA-KAN. 


139 


This  legend  contains  more  truth  than  fiction,  for  I , 
.   have  traveled  all  over  this  Und  and  have  marked  its  * 
peculiar  characteristics.    After  leaving  Bismarck,  on  the 
one  side,  and  Cheyenne  and  Sidney  on  the  other,  great 
plains  stretch   out   before  the   eye,   broken   only  by 
immense  masses  of  rpck,  whicji  are  4ifted  high  up  in 
the  air,  and  then  the  vision  is  again  uninterrupted  for 
miles  and  miles.     How  these  huge  piles  of  stones  came 
upon  these  vast  plains,  isolated,  as  it  'were,'without  a 
cause,  is  accounted  for  only  on  the  ground,  that  at 
spme  period  in  the  past,  a  great  volcanic  eruption  took 
place  in  the  northeast,  and  passing  along  southwest, 
broke  through  the  thinnest  crust  of  the  earth,  and  left 
these  heavy  deposits  of  rock.     In  corroboration  of  this 
theory?  I  note  the  fact  that  all  these  buttes  come  along 
in  a  str|ight  line  from  the  northeast  to  the  southwest; 
that  is,  here,  would  be  a  large  uplift,  some  three  or 
four  hundred  feet  high,  whfle  several  miles  southwest, 
wouW  be  another,  and  so  on,  for  miles  and  miles,  acros*s 
these  great  plains.    These  uplifts,  at  a  distance,  present 
the  appearance  of  houses  and  barns,  but  as  you  approach 
them,  the  illusioh^isappears. 

Then,  again,  we  find  mounds,  beneath  which  is  rock, 
the  volcanic  force  not  having  been-  strong  enough  to 
throw  the  stone  to  the  surface.  Following  these^  buttes 
to  the-Mrssouri  river  on  the  east  side,  we  discover  where 
the  volcanic  fires  have  spent  their  fury  on  the  edge  of 
the  rivtr,  great  peaks  or  mpuntains  appearing,  upon  the 
tops  of  A^'hich  I  found  black,  scarifie^i  rocks,  mixed  with 
sulphuf,  mica  and  iron  sUg,  very  clearly  indicating  that 
^^^  ^^i^^"i^^!^^^^7^Q"^  ^^g  "Ortheas^   wis  arr#>«f#>r4   ;» 


Its  progress  by  the  river7and  hence  left  its  mark.     No 
doubt,  at  the  time  this  cniption  toipk  place,  the  sun' 


iail-i 


^ 


149 


PA-HA-WA-KAN. 


was  darkened,  the  e&rth  shook  and  rumble^lftd  the 
air  was  full  of' sulphur  and  falling  stones,  a^^t  w^ 
probably  at  or  about  this  period  that  this  le^W  orig- 
inated, based  upon  a  fact,  instead  of  fiction,    ioi^too,  I 
may  say  of  the  previous  beauty  of  the  countr^fa!nci  its 
surroundings ;  its  animals,  its  foliage,  its  ^me.;'   The 
remains  6f  some  of  the  largest  turtles  ever  JcntoWn  have 
been  found  in  this  region;  also  of  defunct  fig  beasts, 
of  gigantic. size;  trunks  of  great  tTees  hav©  been  dis- 
covered  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.     Petrified'  wood  is 
obtained  here  in  great  abundance  ;  the  soil  is  very  rich 
—a  vegetable  mold— all  going  to  show,  that  at  one 
period  in  the  histoiy  of  this  country  it  was  a  paradise— 
the  loved  home  <s>f  the  Indian,  or  the  mound-builders— 
but  that -suddenly,  its  beauty  was' destroyed ;  its  ani- 
mals  killed ;  its  contour  changed ;  its  pure  water  turned 
to  alkali;   its  flowers  and  shrubbery  oblitefated ;  not' 
by  an  act  of  the, Great  Spirit,  as  is  believed  by  the  In- 
dians, but  by  a  law  of  nature,  producing  just  exactly 
what  the  exterior  surface  of  the  earth  demonstrates, 
has  been  produced  by  natural  CAUSES.     No  one  who 
has  traveled  that  country  and  kn^ws  anything  of  its 
history,  can  arrive  at  any  other  conclusion ;  so  that  this 
legend  is  especially  interesting  as  opening  up  a  new 
train  of  thought  of  vast  importance  for  further  re- 
searches in  the  Great  Northwest.  *v 


■^ 


■i      f 


-    -^"^  ^^  I 


^ 


OLD  BETS. 

AZA-YA-MAN-KA-WAN ;   OR  BERRY  PICKER. 


'^^     familiar  face  of  .Old  Bets,  an  Indian  squaw, 
V  4     peered  in  upon  my  vision  for  about  twenty  years, 
wl^en,  all  of  a  sudden,  it  disappeared,  and  the  news  came 
that  she  was  dead!    Very,  few  who  met  her  wrinkled 
face,  her  laughing  eyes,  her  grotesque  figure,  or  heard 
her  whining  voice  asking  for  "  kosh-poppy,"  or  money, 
knew  of  the  roniantic   history  attached   to  that  old 
squaw,  a^.she  almost  daily  paraded  the  streets  of  a 
frontier  city  and  sold  her  moccasins  or  begged  for  aid. 
The  weight  Qf  years,  the  burden  of  trouble,  silent  grief, 
patient  iorebearance,  all  leave  their  impress  behind,  and 
the  Indian  is  not  exempt  from  the  general  law.     Who 
knows,   or  can  divine   the  history  of  that  old   man, 
tottering  under  the  load  of  a  life  of  suffering^  Who 
could  realize  that  in  his  early  days  he  stole  the  Hearts 
of  women,  electrified  men,  and  moved  the  masses  with 
h^  eloquence  ?    Now,  how  useless !  Who  could  imagine 
even,  the  early  triumphs,  the  bewitching  beauty,  the 
imcomparabl6  charms  of  that  young  giri,  who,  thread- 
ing Iffe's  thoroughfare,  drew  after  her  hundi'eds  of  ad- 
mirers ?    Now,  that  bent-over,  gray-haired,  bowed-down 
form  \  how  changed  !    So  each  and  every  one  has  a  his- 
tory  and  must,  in  turn,  pass  out  of  youth  and  vigor, 
and  beauty,  and  manhood,  and  womanhood,  into  the 
silent,  stealthy  tread  of  old  ;^g(^,  -groping  down  the  vak^ 
ley  of  sdeath,  hoping'  to  catch  a  glimpse  on  the  other 
shore  of  that  light  which  burns  forever  I    Jji     "" 


&{k^, 


S 


^-f" 


.     Old  Bets  was  once  young  and  handsome,  and  she 
drew  after  her  many  lovers.     Born  at  the  confluence  of 
two  rivers  — the  Mississippi  and  the  Minnesota— her 
childhood  was  passed  among  the  scenes  of  her  final 
.death;  but  her  earfy  girlhood  was  out  among  the  wild 
^  scenery  of  her  tribe,  where  danger  confronted  the  red 
men  of  the  plains,  and  acts  of  valor  crowned  the  warrior 
wJth  undying  fame!    Young  Bets  was  greatly  loved, 
not  only  for  her  beauty,  but  for  her  kind  disposition,  as 
well  as  for  her  bravery ;  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  young 
man  who  had  won  great  renown  in  the  tribe,  sought 
the  hand  of  the  young  girl  in  marriage,  and  in  turn  she 
looked  upon  his  attention,  with  favor.     Her  brother, 
however,  being  himself  a  warrior  and  a  medicine  man,* 
objected   to  the    match    upon   the  ground    that  his 
'lister's  suitor  had,  in  the  past,  wronged  him,  amd  he 
should  never  darken  the  door  of  his  tepee,  evej  if  he 
did— as  he  was  willing  to-^make  amends  for  th»4njury 
given. 

The  merry  laugh  of  thejjj^iden  gradually  died  away! 
Her  joyous  nature  turned  to  soberness,  as  she  thought 
6(  the  young  heart  which  beat  only  for  her,  and,  in 
turn,  before  she  was  aware  of  it,  her  tenderest  feelings 
were  wrapped  up  in  the  welfare  of  the  young  and 
slrdent  lover,  whose  image  had  become  a  part  of  her 
own  existence.  She  besouglit  her  brother  to  forgive 
the  young  warrior.  She  assured  him  her  happiness 
depended  upon  her  union  with  him,  but  the  stoical 
face*and  the  hardened  heart  would  not  relax,  and 
she  turned  away  with  great  sorrow  and  entered  the 
forest  near  by,  where,  unexpectedly  she  met  Chig-go^nia. 


her  besT  arid  dearest  Tnerid. 
Here  the  interview  termiftated  with  a  solemn  resolve 


'  : 


I 

.J 
- 


»v^^^y^'-^ 


y 


i ' 


4 


eadi  oth 


OLD  BETS. 


143 


to  die  for  eadl  other,  and  on  the  morrow  the  two  werq 
'  to^  quietly  meet,  bid  good-bye  to  the  old  associations, 
and  "mounted  on  ponies,  pass  away  west  as  man  and 
wife.  - 

With  the  rising  of  the  sun  the  young  and  lovely 
Berry  Picker  had  fled,  and  with  her  Ghig-go-nia.     Her 
brother  whose  name  was  He-in-da-koo,  was  soon  aware 
of  what  had  occurred,  and  mounted  on  one  of  "his  fleet- 
est  ponies,  and   well   armed,  he  started   in    pursuit. 
About  noon  he  overtook  the  flying  couple,  who,  con- 
scious of  his  desperate  hatred  and  unrelenting  ferocity, 
redoubled  their  speed;  the  warrioi;  however,  gained  upon 
them  until  their  horses  were  all  soon  neck  and  neck/ 
and  speeding  rapidly  over  th^  jjlain  together.     Young, 
Bets'   brother  thdn   rode   in   front,"  and   drawing  his 
horses  head  across  the  path  of  the  lover,  sought  to  cut 
him  down  with  his  tomahawk.     His  sister  pleaded  for 
his  life,  but  seeing  that  her  pleadings  were  all  in  vain, 
she  reigned  in  her  pony,  brought  him  close  to  the  side 
of  her  lover,  and  with  one  spring  from  her  animal 
Jlinded  in  his  lap.    With  one  arm  about  the  waist  of 
his  love,  the  young  man  fought  bravely  for  his  life, 
but  encumbered  with  the  maiden,  he  fought  to  great 
disadvantage;    when,  all  of  a  sudden,  his  antagonist 
struck  him  with  his  tomahawk  on  the  head  from  be- 
hind, and  the  young   man  sank  to  the  earth,  and  in 
the  arms  of  his  sweetheart  breathed  out  his  last  fare- 
well.   The  maiden  was. carried  back  into  camp,  and 
though  she  subsequeptly  married  a  man  of  note  in  her 
tribe,  yet  the  great  sorrow  of  her  early  love  never  left 
her,  and  Jtrace&i?f  Jthat  sorrow  could  be  spfn  iipnn  her 
face,  even  in  her  old  age.    ' 
Old  Bets  was  born  at  a  place  calleid  Mendota«and 


144 


OLD  BETS. 


died  a  few  years  ago  at  the  age  of  seventy-five  ye^rs, 
although,  frbm  her  weather-beajen  and  care-worn  appear' 
ance,  many  supposed  her  to  be  over  one  hundred  years 
She  married  Iron  Sword,  and  had  several  children,  one 
\  Of  whom,  Ta-opi,  became  converted  to  Christianity 
Nand  aided  veiy  considerably  toward  elevating  and  civ 
liizing  his  tribe.  ^  J  ^ 


> 


^^For  many  years  this  inoffensive  old  woman  traveled 
the  streets  of    the  white  man's  city,  and  became  a 
a  marked  character  both  to  the  citizens  and  to  stran- 
,    gers.    I  remember  her  as  the  possessor  of  a  wrinkled  ' 
face,  peculiar  eyes,  disheveled-  hair,  large  mouth,  un- 
covered neck,  uncouth7orm,  but  always  with  her  cheer-  > 
tul     ho-hos,   as  she  plodded  along  under  the  weight  of 
years,  and  of  her  great,  unknown  sorrow.    She  was  a  - 
kind  and  devoted  friend  of  the  whites  r  was  the  means 
of  saving  several  lives  d-uring  the  massacre  in.  Minne- 
^ota,  in  I86i,  and  before  her  death  became  quite  poor, 
but  It  IS  a  credit  to  humanity  to  be  able  to  state,  that 
she  was  aided  by  pecuniary,  help  during  her  sickness, 
and  finally  died  in  the  Christian  belief,  and  was  accord- 
^  ed  a  Christian  Suriaf.    The  portrait  of  her,  which  we 
present,  is  an  excellent  one,  and  was  taken  only  a  short 
time  before  her  death.    Good-bye,  Old  Bets. 


./" 


'?!'■* 


WA-ZI-YA*  AND  THE  ENCHANTED 

■KNIFE.'   ■.    -    ,      '  -  ',,,  / 

QNCE  upon  a  time  there  was  an  old  woman,  who 
W  had  an  only  son,  and  what  is  remarkable,  he  was 
bom  w.th  a  handlcerchief  about  his  neck,  and  was 

r:t'^?"'''',';"''"'.^'='^'^''*P-'^'-^-  The  chid 
grew  to  be  a  general  favorite  with  everybody,  and  at  three 

years  of  age,  could  hunt  and  fish  as  well  as  any  Indian. 

a^d'^      T.  ^''^ry^-^f  ^e-thecampbrolceup 
and  moved  down  the  river  to  trade  "with  an  old  Li 
erne  man  who  kept  roots,  etc.,  for  sale,  and  also  to  lay  : 
m  therr  medrcnes  for  the  hunting  season:     The  old 
TrTtirh  '"'  "'  "*K  ''"^"'^  consequently  she  and 
Ground      T.  "^  *"■!  *•*'  °"'''  °"''  '^f'  °"  the  old  camp 
fhZt    \.V' .'^,''""S  this  solitude  and    time   for 
thought   which  sicknes  oilers,  that  the  tales  of  the 
wrld  and  rapacious  Wa-zi-ya  floated  across  her  memory; 
and  t^ere  was  scarcely  an  evening  that  she  did  not  take 
occ^ron  to  warn  her  boy  about  going  in  a  northevi; 

"thn   °".'r.     "  r™"''^-     "^y  ^°"'"  «^  would  say^ 
I  tT-    J"  °"'y  P^P  °f  *y  o'd  ag«^  ■  .If  I  lose  thee 

end^r  -I  T"""-  ^"""^  '"^"S  t"^"  I  >-««e  always 
endeavored  to  mstruct  thee,  and  iiow,  ^  thou  art  big 

mhabrt  the  North.  The  Wa.ri.ya  is  ever  a  foe  to  the 
homes  of  our  people,  and'  should  one  suddenly  meet 
thee,  death  wouM  be  your  reward." 

10  tm. 


hn: 


'•T*'^f1S!i'"I'»fe~   1^^ 


•■^^^«^««P"  '^■^T^r^m^^^^^' 


t'* 


/? 


^^k 
^W, 


146 


WA-ZI-YA  AND  THE 


The  youth  hung  his  head  in  silence;  he  could  not 
realize  the  existence  of  such   cruel   monsters  as  his 
mother  had  depicted,  and  it  awakened  in  him  a  curiosity 
to  know  more  of  them.     "Well,"  thought  he,  "if  Wa- 
zi-ya  be  such  a;  foe  to  mankind,  why  dojj^^ey  kill 
him?.    Is  he  too  big  for  them  to  kill?"    And  he  half 
wished  that  he  could  see  one,  just  to  know  what  kind 
of  beings  they  were.    It  is  thus  that  curi6sity  draws  us 
on  to  our  own  destruction.     The  more  he  thought  of 
it,  the  more  intense  became  his  desire  to  see  one^  and 
by  degrees  this  thoughtless  curiosity  grew  so  upon  him 
that  ,he  would  wander  for  miles  toward  the  north,  then 
suddenly  become  alarmed  and  return.    The  subject  so 
preyed  upon,  his  mind  that  he  made  a  resolution  to  go 
and  ^ee  for  himself.    Accordingly,  one  evening,  after 
his  mother  had  recovered  from  her  sickness,  he  took 
•  his  bpws  and  arrows  and  started  out,  determined  not 
to  cb^back  until  he  had  seen  and  learned  more  of 
^^  dfcadful  Wa-zi-ya.    Thought  fulness  never  fails,  of 
ijis  punishment.    Throughout  the  whole  day  he  trav- 
eled, never  di^eaming  of  eating-^in  fact  forgetting  that 
he  had  no  food  whatever  with  him,  until  night  fell 
upon  him,  and  he  lay  down  with  his  blanket  around 
him  and  was  soon  fast  asleep.     In  the  morning  .early 
he  awakened,  and;  as  usual,  his  first  thought  was  of"  ' 
Wa-zi-ya ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  few  moments  that  his 
mind  ran  in  that  direction,  for  hunger  soon  made  him 
conscious  of  its  lerrible  pang.    It  was  only  then  that 
he  began  to  realize  his  situation.    A  long  day's  trayel 
from   home,  with  no  food  in  his  bundle,  and  to  all 
«ppt;«ranccs,  w  game  of  any  kind  around  him—in  a 
nioment   these  thoughts  impressed  themselves  upon 
him,  and  then,  throwing  himself  upon  the  ground,  he 


ENCHANTED  KNIFE. 


f 


burst  into  tears.  Unbinding  the  handkerchief  from  hi^ 
neck-the  same  he  was  bom  with-he  attempted  to 
put  It  to  his  eyes,  but  a  blast  of  wind  carried  it  out  of 

his  hand,  and  it  alighted  some  distance  from  him.  He 
runs  to  get  it!  Great  Spirit !-~it  lies  spread  out,  and 
upon  It  food  of  all  kinds.  Dry^ing  his  eye.  h^  eats, 
then  rises  and  pursues  his  journey.    '     - 

Toward  noon  he  sees  what  appears  to  be  a  fort  anil 
he  approaches  it,  finding  it  to  be  an  immense  building 
and  to  his  wondering  eyes  the  home  of  Wa-zi-ya.  Look' 
mg  in  at  the  open  door  he  sees  no  one ;  he  enters  and 
a  horrible  sight  meets  his  view !     Around  the  room 
were  the  heads  of  those  slain  ;  skulls  nailed  to  the  waU 
and  under  each  head  was.  fastened  a  hand  severed  at 
the  wrist      His  blood, ran  cpld,  and  while  meditating 
what  he  should  do,  he  heard  a  noise  like  thunder,  and, 
m  comes  Wa-zi-ya.     « I  smell  something,"  said  the 
great  monster !    The  boy  hides  behind  k  post,  but  Wa- 
.  zi-ya  smells  him  put  and  takes  him  in  his  hand.  "  Naw- 
a-pesk-ta,  se-ce.ca I  "      "I  wUI  ^at  you  up ! "  '    Boy  re- 
gains courage;  begs  him  not  to  ekt  him.   "  Hungry'  — 
.  must,"  said  the  monster.     Boy  says':    "  I  will  give  you 
plenty  to  eat."  The  great  giant  laughs  and  says-"  Wi. 
ca-ka-wo !       You  can't  do  it.     But  the  bqy  spreads  his 
*iAndkerchief  upon  the  ground  and  immediately  it  h 
covered  with  food.     Wa-zi-ya  fills  himself,  and   then 
turning  to  the  little  stranger,  says :   "  fta!  my  boy,  thU 
will  do ;  now  you  may  go  home  unharmed."  Boy  starts^ 
to  go,  but  is  called  back.    Wa-zi-ya  wants  the  handker- 
chief  but  the  bdy  ia  unwilling  to  part  wfth  ir     The 

giant  says  he  must  have  it;  he  wiU  give  him  a  flute 

lor  It.      sw-"     -  -         '  -  -sec     '        •     —  -  -  -^ 

''  What  can  I  to  with  the  flute  ?  "  asked  the  W. 


...jj.: 


ism^ 


148        WA-Zl-YA  AND  THE  ENCHANTED  KNIFE. 


\  ■ 


Call  an  army  of  genii  when  in  need.  The  boy  will  not 
consent;  goes  ho«e;  does  not  tell  hij, mother,  but  at 
,  the  first  favorable  opportunity,  goes  1|ain.  Wa-zi-ya 
asks  h.m  for  more  food*  for  he  has  come  to  like  the 
t>oy,  but  the  boy  pretends  not  to  hear  him.  The  giant 
asks  agam  and  says:  "If  you  will  fToduce  a  supper  as 
T^  VI"'}^:  ^  '''"  ^^^  y°"  this,"  sh<fwing  him  a- 

bof  "O.    .:  "'  ^°''  *'"  *'^  d°  "-eP-asks  the 
ooy.       Uh,  It  does  whatever  its  possessor  tells  ft  to  " 
Boy  consents  and  receives  the  knife.     Wa-zi-ya  imme- 
dK.teV  falls  to  eating  the  provisions,  and  while  thus- 
engaged    he  boy  walks  off  a  short  distance,  takes  out 
«1  '  ,     «  *' •'°  ""  Wa-zi-ya's  head  off,  and  off  it 
comes!    Boy  runs. home,  tells  his  mother,  and, then 
were  is  great  rejoicing,  and  amid  it  all  o^^^rees 
spring  up  and  bear  oranges ;  figs  grow  in  gflb>und- 
ance,    flowers  bloom;    birds  sing;    all  sorf?!f  game 
dus  ej.  ,„  the  bushes;  fishes  sport  in  the  rivers  and  in 
the  lakes;  buffalo  surround  the  camp;  the  air  is  mild 
i  and  balmy;  the  Indians  gather  in  immense  number, 

hannl     t"f  \^"^\  ''^''  ^"^  "'^  ^y^  ''°^"  *'">  • 

North        1^    ."'.''''  '"^^'  ^"^  '''"*<'  "'^  ^<^  °f  tho 
North,  or  Wmter;  has  broken  down  his  great  temple 

0/  ice  and  snow;  has  turned   his  cold  and  cheerless 

blasts  into  perennial  summer;   has  brought  joy  and    ' 

happines^  and  plenty  to  the  ftakota  nation. 


•i 


OPINIONS,    BELIEFS   AND    CUSTOMS 
*  OF  THE  INDIANS.     :■ 

WE  ^!I  have  supposed  that  the  Indians  cfraw  direct- 
ly from  nature  their  beliefs,  their  opinions  and 
their  customs,  as  we  have  no  knowledge  th^t  a  people 
existed  on  the  American  Continent,  anterior  to  them, 
except  the  vague  conception  of  a  pre-historic  race! 
about  which  we  know  but  very  little;  hence,  whatever 
their  customs  and  beliefs  may  be,  they  are  original  with 
themselves.    And  yet  we  can  trace  their  peculiar  char- 
acteristics to  the  Arabs,  and  many  of  their  religious, 
ceremonies  to  the  Jews,  leaving  one  to  infer  that  at  a; 
remote  period   in  the  past,  the  'so-called  American 
Indian,  or  rather  his  descendants,  were  inhabitants  of 
the  Old  World,  and  transplanted   to  the  new,  many 
customs  and  beliefs  supposed  to  belong  solely  to  them- 
selves,  but^which^have^a  greater  antiquity  than  the 
Anlerican  continent  Itself.    Donnelly  in  his  "Atlantis/* 
recently  published,  advances  some  cogent  reasons  and  • 
authorities,  to  prove,  that  at  one  time  the  two  oceans 
were  connected  by  land,  and  that  on  an  island  called 
"Atlantis,"  then  existing  in  the  ocean,  there  lived  a 
race  of  people  much  more  intelligent  than  the  American 
Indian^  and  from  whom  the  Indians  sprung;  or,  if  he 
did  not  originate  there,  he  came  into  the  western  hemi-  • 
sphere  over  this  land,  and  brought  with  him  some  of 
jhe  bdiefB  and  traditions  of  the  Old  Worid.    Donnelly 


daimfthat  Atlantis  was  sunk  in  the  ocean,  and  totally 
dcstroyc4f  * 


4 


-*gM|?gteiBft« 


ISO 


OPINIONS,  BELIEFS  AND  CUSTOMS 


\Tt» 


C 
'■^x 


f 


When  among  the  Bois  Fortes  Indians  ymg"  ago,  my 
camp  was  fisited  by  two;  sons  o^  the  dhi^,  accdm, 
panied  by  their  squaws  or  wives,  and  a/ter  the  usual 
salutation—"  Booshu  N^chee,"  hpwto  do,  friend  (the 
Indian  never  says  good-morning  or  good-evening,  but 
it  is.  either  friend  or  foe^^e  set  before  them  a  good 
solid  dinner  of  bread,  coffee,  pork  and  beans,  and  of 
whi'ch  they  partook  plentifully.    One  of  the  women 
had  in, her  arms  a  bundle,  and  I  observed  that  every 
time  she  eat,  she  passed  a  piece  of  bread  or  a  few  beans 
to  the  mysterious  something  ^e  cuddled  to  her  bosom 
so  affectionately.    After  she  had  left,  I  said  to  my  m 
terpreter— "  What  did.  that  squaw  have  in  her  arms?" 
to  which  he  quiekly  replied-^"  Why  the  bones  orskele-^ 
ton  of  a  baby !  ?'     "  Is  that  their  habit  ?  '^  I  inquired.  • 
" Oh,  yes,"  he  replied.    "When  a  child  dies,  through  4 
process  known  to  these  Indians,*the  body  is  preserved 
until  the  flesh  is  all  gone,;  and  the  skin  is  drawn  tightly 
over  the  bones;  then  the  remahis  are  decorated  in  its 
little  garnients,  embroidered  with  beads,  its  web  play, 
things  are  sewed  up  among  the  clothing  and  the  mother 
is  obliged  to  carry  the  child  wherever  she  goes^-or 
rather  the  skeleton— until  another  baby  is  bom  or  the 
father  dies,  when  it  is  put  away.    At  every  meal  the^ 
mother  feeds  the  inanimate  remains,  believing  that  this 
is  necessary  to  sustain  its  existence -on  its  way  to  th<;  ' 
spirit  worid,  and  hence  what  you  have  seen,  is' oiriy  a. 
religious  duty  of  a  parent  to  its  offspring." 

Indian  adults  are  buried  with  their  wandstof- redp. 
white  and  blue,  to  be  used  soon  after  (JeatK  to  keep 
on  the  bad  and  tempting  spirits,  when  they  r^arl^ 
^e  snorei  of  thcTiappy  hunting  ground  (sec  legend  af 
Mrp-ne-too-ka) ;  so  alsb  are  they  buried  with  their ^n|j^ 


:-^-^^y>;B 


OF  THE  INDIANS.     > 


151 


go,  my        *; 

^ 

accdm* 

• 

i"  usuil   '       ! 

Id  (the         ; 

. 

ig,  biit 

■.■ 

good. 

and,  of  u      J 

-  - 

vomen         ? 

■ 

every          ^ 

beans          \ 

bosom. ,     ^ 

my  in--:  ■  ^ 

rms?" 

skele- ' 

uired.  • 

ugh  4 

ierved 

■ 

ightly       ; 

in  its           ] 

play- 

their  blankets,  fetc.j  aind  if  a  warrior  of  note  dies,  liip 
ponies  are  killed  at  his  grave,  so  that  he  may  have 
horse§  to  rfde  In  the  other  world.  Food  is  also  left  at 
t:heii'  tombs ior  their  sustenance.  Their  bejief  in  the 
future  IS  very  strong,  as  these  incidents  would  indicate. 
A  feeling  exists  between  a  mother  and  hefchildVen, 
by  which,  no  matter  how  far  apart  they  may  be?  she 
can  tell  when  they  are  suffering  or  in  danger.  There 
are  not  a  few  Sioux  women  who  do  not  in  some  measure 
believe  in  this,  and  many  are  the  talte  that  are  told  of 
the  exercise  of  this  strange  power.  There  are  atso 
many  white  women  who  believe; in  tliis  influence,  for 
they  have  had  consideiable  experience  in  this  direction. 
The  Indians  formeriy  elevated  their'  dead  upon  poles  or 
scaflfolds,  where  they  remained 'fbr  one  year;  now  they 
bury  theni  in  the  ground,  and  th6y  are  always  disposed 
of  with  their  heads  to  one  of  the  four  cardinal  points  ^f- 
the  conVpass.  Many  intlBr  thefn  with  their  heads  to  the 
north  arid  feet  to  the  south,  since  they  believe  that  the 
spirit  of  the  Indians  ^111  travel  south  td  the  land  of 
ease  aiid  comfort>,  yet,  niy^ny  imagine  that  their  spirits 
will  go  west;  oAers  .think  that  the  east  is  the- final 
abo«ie  of  mortality,  made  immortal  by  some  invisible 
po>yer.  The  idea  that  everything  on  the  earth  is^acted 
upon  by  spirits  pervades  all  the  action  of  the  Dakotas. 
..They  believe  that  the  "wangi's"  spirit— though  the 
same  word  means  siceleton — inhabits"  the  ravines  and 
hollows,  and  for  th^t  season  they  bury  their  dead 
usually  upon  the  edge  of  some  coolie  oii^avine,  that 
the  spirit  may  returft  to  the  body  at  plea^re.    They 


d4( 


also  JipHcve  that  good  and  evil  opirits  walk  the  ciUi' 


and  influence  thtk  actions. 


'.   The  ^yinitifisof  the  Sioux  are  legion.    Tbi  «k,  the 

V  '    .       .  .  I       .        •  "         .A. 


,#■• 


* 


152     OPINIONS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  INDun's. 

earth,  the  water,  the  h&vens,  and  even  fire  itself  all 
have  their  s,pa,^te  divinities  and  spirits  of  eW  kt 
eO'th.ng  is  linlced  «ith  darkness  and  terror,  el^ept  fhe 
one  great,  the.  in<#,prehen.!ble,  the  silent  God      De' 

and  a  sudden  death  calls  them  up  in  all  their  terror 

•  S:f  Td"  t   "  m"''  °'  '''^'  '"""""efng  fS, 
cftiidren  and  to  old  women.    The  Wa-kantanta  «.. 

^-t  SpiHt  of  the  Sioax,  is  the  sa«e  ^^^^^^ 

the  S^scnt,  and.the  Koda  of  the  .Sioux.    Did  thes. 
deites  originate  among  themselves?     They  agree  in 
.t^-butesw^th jhe  divinities  of  foreign  m^ET  ' 
but  how  d,d  the  Indians  know  of  thL  m^hoS 

hfrj"'    ''"'*^'  ^"^  only  original  inhabitants'^n 
the  American  continent  ?    Whence  came  .their  idea  of 
deites  and  mythology,  except  that  they origin^d  •«  ■ 
the  long  p^t,and  have  been  handed  down  from  are 
."pote  age  to  the  present  ?    I.  am  foreed  to  belfev"  thT^ 


I.  / 


"^  ■  « 


THE  LAST  MAN!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 

npHE  Mandan  Indians,  many  years  ago,  had  a  very 
X  clear  conception  of  the  flood,  and  celebrated  the 
event  in  quite  an  interesting  manner.  Many  bf  these 
Jndians  were  really  white-^it  seems  a  paradoxium  to 
ia\\  them  Indians— with  hazel,  gray  and  blue  eyes,  for, 
no  doubt,  they  were  the  descendants  oi  a  white  race. 

Catiin,  in  a  recent  work,  says:  " On  the  day  set  apart 
for  the  commencement  of  the  ceremonies  iti  commem- 
oration of  the  flood,  a  solitary  figure  is  seen  approach- 
ing the  village.    During  the  deafening  din  and^onfusion 
within  the  pickets  of  the  village,  ^e  figure  discovered 
on  the  prairie,  continued  to  approach  with  a  dignified 
step,  and  in  a  rigHt  line  .to)/vrard  the  village ;  all  eye^ 
.  were  upon  him,-andhe  at  length  made  his  appearance 
within  the  pickets  and  proceeded  toward  the  center  of 
the  village  where  all  the  chiefs  and  braves  stood  ready 
to  lieceive  him,  which  they  did  in  a  cordial  manner,  by 
shaking  hands,  recognizing  him  as  an  old  acqua«itance 
and  pronouncing  his  name,  Nu-mohk-muck-a-nah,  the 
firsts  or  only  man.    The  body  of  this  strange  personage, 
which  was  chiefly  naked,  was  painted  with  white  clay, 
so  as  to  resemble,  at  a  distance,  a  white  man.     He 
enters  the  fnedicine  lodge  and  goes  through  certain 
mysterious  ceremonies.     During  the  whole  of  this  day, 
,Nu-mohk-nUick-a.nah,    traveled    through   the   village, 
stopping  in  front  of  each  man's  tepee,  and  crving  until 


'ihi^ 


The  owner  of  the  lodge  came  out  and  asked  who  he  was 
and  what  was  the  matter?    To  which  he  replied  by 


'.'     -.^  *     J -..li.il  **^-i' 


154  THE  LAST  man!— STRANGt:  BELIEFS.,        ' 

narrating  the  sad  catastrophe  which  had  happened  on 
the  earth's  si^rface  by  the  overflowing  of  the  waters, 
saying  that  he  was  the  only  person  savech  from  the 
universal  calamity ;  that  he  landed  his  big  canoe  on  a 
high  mountain  in  the  west,  where  he  now  resides;  th^t 
he  has  come  to  open  the  medicine  lodge,  which  must 
needs  receive  a  present  of.  an  "edgQd  tool  from  theowner- 
of  every  wigwam,  that  it  may  be  sacrificed  to  the*^ 
water;  for,  he. says,  if  this  is  not  done  there  will  be 
'another  flood  and  no  one  will  be  saved,  as  it  was  with 
'  w:K  tools  that  the  big  canoe  was  made.  • 

r^Having  visited  every  lodge  in  the  village  during 
the  day,  and  having  received  such  a  present  from  each 
as  a  h^chet,  a.Jcnife,  etc.,  he  places  them  in  the  medi- 
cine  lodge -^  and  on  thyfast  day  of  the  ceremony  they 
are  thrown  into  a  deflf)  place  in  the  river— sacrificed  to 
the  spirit  of  the  waters."  I  > 

Tl^-Dakotas  have  a  similar  bclref,  clearly  showing^ 
thatithq  aborigirtes  or  this  country  must  have  had,  at 
lea^,  .traditionary  information  of  th)e  Old  World.    . 
<    The  Dakotas  believe  that  th^  earth  is  an  extended 
plain.     This  belief,  alone,  is  evidence' of  nothing,  for  all 
rude  nations  have  formed  exactly  such,  an  idea  of  it, 
but  when  the  Dakota  adds  to  this  his  belief  that  the 
further  north  you  go,  ^he  higher  the  ground  become^,  ^ 
until  It  terminates  in   lofty  mountains,  behind  which' 
the  sun  Is  hid  in  the  night  as  he  travels  east  to  resume 
his  diurnal  courSc  to  the  west  again,  it  is  easy  enough 
to  recognize  in  this  the  general  belief 'of  ancient  India, 
that  "the  sun  revolVes  around  a  lofty  northern  mount- 
ain, producing  day  when  on  one  side  and  night  when    ' 


on  the  xrtrher 


Xo  havg  the  hair  cut  short,  is  esteemed  by  all  Indiaiui 


THE  LAST  man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS*  1 55 

a  great  disgrace.    The  Dakotas  especially  deem  it  so, 
"   since  Jt  was  a  part  of  the  punishment  oi  a  murdeiter. 
and  was  also  the  reward  of  treacheiy.     A  Dakota 
woman,  however,  and  sometimes  a  young  brave,  will 
vow  to  cut  off  her  or  his  hair  in  case^  an  earnestly 
wished-for  event  transpires  happily;   but  even  under 
.such  circumstances  they  do  not  cut  it  off  short,  but 
merely  clip  a  few  hairs.    An  Indian's  face  painted 
black,  indicates  his  desire  to  kill  somebody.     (See  ar- 
ticle, "  A  Run  for  Life>) .  ' 
Praying  or  invoking  and  vowing  are  quite  common 
,    among  the  Sioux.   A  brave  starts  upon  a  war-party  and 
is  suddenly  surrounded  by  the  enemy  with  but  little 
hope  of  escape.     Making  a  vow  to  Ta-kux-kanx-kan,  or 
some  other  divinity  that  he  will  make  ascertain  number 
of  beasts  in  his  honor,  or  that  he  will  go  upon  so  many 
war-parties  during  the  ensuing  year,  if  the  God  will  - 
only  assist  him,  or  some  other  vow,  he  plunges  into  the 
fight.    If  he  escapes  he  is  sure  to  keep  his  vow,  for  it  is 
a  thing  sacred, j'n  his  mind,  and  not  to  he  trifled  with. 
^AnriRiHian  hunting  in  the  woods  loses  his  way,  becomes^ 
frightened  and  thinks  he  is  in  great  danger.    .He  im- 
mediately makes  a  vow,  that  if  he  is  saved,  he  will  as- 
sume this  or  that  character  for  such  a  leltgth  of  time  ; 
and  on  reaching  home  in  safety  he  at  once  does  so..  In 
fact  the  Mohammedan  pilgrims  or  the  Hindoo  faquirs  * 
are  not  more  earnest  in  their  vows  nor  more  ser upulous 
in  performing  them  than  are  the  Dakotas.    They  are 
superstitious  in  the  Qxtreme,  and  lo6k  upon  a  broken 
vow  as  irreparable  and  certain  to  call  dpwn  the  anger  of 
the  spirits  upon  them.     It  was  this  superstitions- feeling 
which  found  vent  when  they  heard  for  the  first  time, 
the  report  of  a  rifle,  upon  which  they  cried  out :  "  W*. 


El'vi^kUlJ^!^^. 


156 


THE  LAST  MAN !— STRANGE  BELIEFi» 


it.. 


kan-c/  this  is  supernatural ;  and  the  same  spirit / was 
evinced  when  they  first  saw  the  mariner's  afcii)a% 
The  chief  would  frequently  call  for  a  sight  olt  it,  and 
tell  his  braves  that  the  white  men  were  spirits,  capabl? 
of  doing  everything.  They  believe  in  the  e?cistence  of 
numbers  of  Wan-a-gi-dan,  or  spirits,  whose  so'le  business 
is  to  plague  and  torment  poor  humanity.  They  do  not 
believe  that  th^se  spirits  are  able  to  cause  death,  but 
give  to  them  nearly  the  same  attributes  that  we  do  to 
our  elf-sprites  or  fairies. 

Previous  to  the  time  when  they  obtairted  Worses— • 
scarcely  a  century  ago— the  lot  of  the  Dakota  woman 
was  hard  indeed.     Upon  a  journey  they  were  forced  to 
pack  all  the  houfi^ehold  stuff,  including  their  tents,  upon 
their  backs ;  and  though  they  used  the  large  wolf-dog 
for  packing,  by  placing  transverse  poles  across  his  back, 
fastened  together  over  the  shoulders— the  other  ends 
trailing  upon  the  ground— yet  the  main  packing  had  to 
be  done  upon  their  own  shoulders.     Before  starting  in 
the  morning,  the  men  usually  point  ou^  the  place  at 
which  they  are  to  camp  for  the  night;   and  for  that 
point  the  squaws  and  children,  each  with  their  packs 
upon  their  backs,  start  at  once,  while  the  men  make  a 
detour  over  the  prairie  through  the  woods,  in  search  of 
game.     My  own  horse  was  the  first  animal  of  the.kind 
the  Indians  on  Vermilion  lajke,  in  the  northern  portion 
of  Minnesota  and   near  the   Canadian  Jine,  had  ever 
seen  and  when  he  appeared  in  full  view,  they  became 
greatly  excited  and  frightened;  ran,  screamed  and  hid, 
as  they  thought  it  was  a  Great  Spirit.    This  was  in  the 
year  1865. 

Among  the  Yankton  Indians,  the  first  who  obtained 
*  gun,  endeavored  to  make  it  go  off,  as  he  supposed 


•r 


r 
■< 


THE  LAST  man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 


^he  white  man  of  whom  he  bought  it  made  it  go— without 
loading— 2Sidi  after  repeated  failures,  he  became  enraged, 
and  broke:  it  over  the  head  of  his  wife.  Another  In- 
dian, ikvingj  been  taught  haw  ta  load  it,  put  in  too 
much  powder,  with  a  foot  of  wadding,  and  he  was  very 
much  surprised  to  find  himself  upon  his  back,  after  the 
discharge,  and  thinking  one  near  him  h?d  struck  him, 
he  pitched  into  the  crowd  promiscuously  and  got  beau- 
tifully thrashed ! 

The  young  Indian  women  have  a  peculiar  kind  of 
broth  which  they  give  the,  men  to  make  them  fall  des- 
perately in  love  with  them.  Various  tricks  are  devised 
to  conceal  the  nature  of  this  medicine,  and  to  induce 
the  warrior  to  drink  it.  When  mixed  with  "  Scoot-a- 
wa-boo,"  or  fire-waterj  it  is  irresistible,  as  all  whisky 
toddies  are.  . 

.  An  Indian  who  had  been  wounded  and  was  about  to 
die,  requested  that  his  horse  might  l^e  gaily  capari- 
soned and  brought  to  his  hospital  window,  so  that  he 
might  touch  the  animal.  He  then  took  from  his  med- 
icine bag  a  large  cake  of  ni^le  sugar,  and  held  it  forth. 
It  may  seem  strange,  but  it  is  true,  that  the  beast  ate 
it  from  his  hand.  The  invalid's  features  were  radiant^i 
with  delight  as  he  fell  back  upon  the  pillJW  exhausted, 
pis  horse  had  eaten  of  th(&  sugar,, he  said,  and  he  wS^ 
how  sure  of  a  favorable  reception  and  comfortable 
quarters  in  the  other  world.  Half  an  hour  later  he 
Jjreathed  his  last. 

Jonathan  Carver,  one  of  the  early  explorers,  says : 
"  One  formality  among  the  Nan-dow-essies  in  moum- 
-  ,r  the  dead,  Is  v^iymftii^nT  from  any  modri  oB-™ 
served  in  the  other  nations  through  which  I  passed. 
The  men,  to  show  how  great  their  sorrow  is,  pierce  the 


<  Itt^E&^i^.Ai't 


■«■ 


■'^. 


i\ 


158  T^E  LAST  man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 

■  1      ■ 

flesh  of  their  arms  abbve  the  elbows  with  arroVs,  affd 
the  women  cut  and  gash  their  legs  with  broken  fliiits  . 
until  the  blood  flows  plentifully.  "    f 

"After  the  breath  is  departed,  the  body  is  dressed  in 
the  same  attire  it  usually  wore ;  the  face  of  the  de- 
ceased  is  painted,  and  he  is  seated  in  An  erect  posture 
on  a  mat  or  skin,  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  hut,  with^ 
his  weapons  by  his  side.  His  relatives  seated  around 
him,  each  in  turn  harangue  the  deceasecj ;  and,  if  he 
has  been  a  great  warrior,  recount  his  heroic  actions 
nearly  to  the  following  purport,  which,  in  the  Indian 
language,  is  extremely  poetical  and  pleasing : 

"  '  You  still  sit  among  us,  brother ;  your  person  retains 
Its  usual  resemblance  and  continues   similar  to  ours 
without  any  visible  deficiency,  except  it  has  lost  the 
power  of  action.     But,  whither  is  that  breath  flown, 
which,  a  few  hours  ago  sent  up  smoke  to  the  Great 
Spirit?.  Why  are  those  lips  silent,  that  lately  delivered 
to  us  expressions  and  pleasing  language  ?     Why  are  * 
those  feet  motionless  that  a  few  hours  ago  were  fleejter 
than   the  deer  on  yonder  mountains?     Why  usdfess"   . 
hang  those  arm^  that  could  dimb  the  tallest^tr^e  or" 
draw   the  toi^^^bow?     Alas,  every  part  of  that 
frame,  which  -^^pield  with  admiration  and  wonder 
Aas  now  becom#ks,i^imate  as*^t  was  three  hundred 
years  ago!      We  will %t,  hower,  bemoan  thee  as  if 
thou  wast  forever  lost  to  us,  or  that  thy  hame  would    " 
be  buried  in  .oblivr^n;  thy  soul  yet  lives  in  the  great 
country  of  spirits,  with  those  oi  thy  nation  that  have 
gone  before.thee;  and  though  we  are  left  behind  to 


"  'Actuated  by  the  respect  we  bore  thee  whilst  living 
we  now  come  to  tender  thee  the  last  act  of  kindness  in 


u 


■    >►'■ 


'      -"  THE,  LAST  MAN !— STRANGE  BELIEFS.  1 59 

our  power;  that  thy  body  might  not;  be  neglected  on 
the  plains  and  become  a  ^rey  to  th^  beasts  of  the  fields 
or  fowls  of  the  air,  we  will  take  care  to  lay  it  with  those 
of  thy  predecessors  that  have  gone  before  thee,  hoping 
at  the  same  time  that  thy  spirit  will  feed  their  spirits, 
and  be  ready  to  receive  ours  when  we  shall  also  arrive 
at  the  great  country  of  souls.'"  Tobn-hay-hay  means 
"  woe  is  me,"  a  lament  for  the  dead.  , 

In  the  "Desert  of  the  Exodus,"  by  Paliler,  I  find 
a  similar  ceremony  over  the  death  of  a  member  of  one 
of  the  Arab  tribes,  which  leads  me  to  conclude  that  the 
Indians  obtained  this  .ceremony  from  the  Arabs,  or  it 
originally  came  from  the  pld  World.    The  writer  says : 

"When  a  Bedouin  dies  the  corpse  is  at  once  taken 
out  of  the  tent  to  a  con^nient  place,  washed  with  sOap 
and  water  and  shrouded.  A  bag  containing  a  little 
corn  is  placed  beside  it,  and  it  is  intmediately  buried. 
As  soon  as  it  is  placed  in  the  grave  the  friends  of  the 
deceased  beat  upon  the  ground  with  a  stick,  recite  thd 
Fatihah  and  ciy  out :  '  Oh,  thou  most  compassionate ! 
have  mercy  upon  us,  gracious  God  ! '  Then  they  tap 
with  a  small  pick-ax  at  the  head  of  the  grave  and  ad- 
dress the  deceased  in  these  words :  *  When  the  twain 
Green  Angels  shall  question  an&  exstmine  thee,  say: 
*  The  ll^er  makes  merry,  the  wolf  prowls,  and  man's 
lot  is'l^  the  same,  but  I  have  done  with  all  these 
things.  The  side  tree  is  thy  aunt  and  the  palm  tree 
thy  mother.*  Each  one  then  throws  a  little  dirt  into 
the  grave,  exclaiming  as  he  does  so :  *  God  have  mercy 
upon  thee,'  and  the  party  adjourns  to  a  feast  in  the/ 
-t€Rt-of~the  deceased.    AiitJthefentertath  men t  is  givefF" 


in  honor  of  his  memory  after  the  lapse  of  four  months. 
When  a  death  occurs  in  an  encampment  the  women  of 


V 


\. 


V 


"* 


l6a  THE  LAST  Man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 

the  family  at  once  go  outside  of  the  tent,  and  taking 
off  their  head  dresses,  commence  a  loud  and  impas- 
sio'ned  wailing,  which  they  continue  throughout  the 
<iay."  ^ 

The  Indians  call  a  steamboat  "  the  house  that  walks 
on  the  waters,"  and  a  humming  bird  they  declare  com-es 
from  the  land  of  the  rainbow.  ' 

Each  feather  worn  by  a  warrior  re^esents  an  enemy 
slain  or  Captured—man,  woman  or  child.  Feathers 
among  the  Dakotas  have  very  different  significations 
according  to  the  way  in  which  they  are  painted  or 
notched.  The  only  feathers  that  have  any  meaning 
attached  to  them,  are  those  of  the  eagle.  Each 
feather  stands  for  an  enemy  killed,  but  very  frequently 
one  feather  only  is  used  to  designate  the  number  slain. 
Then  an  eagle  feather  with  a  round  dot  of  rpd  paint 
upon  it,  the  size*  of  a  bullet,  denotes  that  the  wearer 
has  slain  an  enemy  by  shooting  with  a  bullet,  and  as 
t  many  dots  of  this  kind  as  there  are  upon  the  feather,  so  * 
many  enemies  have  been  slain.  . 

The  Chippewas  tell  this  story :  The  various  birds  met 
-together  one  day  to  try  which  could  fly  the  highest. 
Some  flew  up  veiy  swift,  but  soon  got  tired  and  were 
passed  by  others  of  stronger  wing.  But  the  eagle  went 
up  beyond  them  all,  and  was  ready  to  claim  the  victory, 
when,  the  g^ay  jjnnet,  a  very  small  bird,  flew  from  the 
eagle's  back,  v^titre  At  had  perched  unperceived,  and, 
being  fresh  and  unexhausted,  succeeded  in  going  the 
highest.  *JVhen*the  birds  came  down  and  met  in  coun- 
cil to  awardjhe  j^riie,  it  was  given  to'thecagje,  because 
that  bird  had  not  only  gone  up  nearer  to  the  sun  than 
any  of  the  larger  birds,  but  it  had  carried  the  linnet  on 
itsback,    For  this  reason  the  eagle's  feathers beqmfi  « 


THE  LAST  MANP-^I 


gU  reliefs.        i6i 


the  most  honorable  marks  of  distinction  a  warrior  could 
wear.  '■'■'-.  .    ■,■ 

Indians  not  only  pick  out  all  the  hair  from  their 
faces,  but  from  their  bodies.  I  have  seen  Indians,  how- 
ever, with  good  beards,  but  they  are  rare.  It  is  a  pecul- 
iar featur^in  the  history  of  the  race,  that  they  totally 
abhor  hair,  except  upon  ifeihead,  and  this  custom  of 
pulling  it  out,  has  a  deeper  significance  than  appears 
upon  the  surface.  Did  the  Savages  originate  from  a 
people  v|lo  once  wore  beards,  and  did  some  great 
event  prejudice  them  against  hair,  or,  are  they  a  distinct 
race,  descendants  only  from  themselves?         ' 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  a  chief,  in  speech,  always 
calls  the  country  ownfed  by  his  nation— "Ma-ko-ee 
Mi-ta-wa "—my  country;  while  tl^e  braves  usually  say, 
"  Ma-ko-ee  un-kit-a-wa-pi,"— our  country,  a  ctjstinction 
which  some  have  imagined  is  a^elic  of  the  old  regal 
►claim  to  all  the  national  domain,  as  it  was  among  the  * 
ancient  Hindoo  and  other  eastern  nations.    ' 

The  Indians  have  many  feasts.  Indeed,  fighting, 
feasting  and  dancing  are  the  p;-ominent  elements  of 
their  nature.  The  Virgin  feast,  however,  is  a  sacred 
right  and  has  much  to  commend  it.  None  but  Vifgins 
are  permitted  to  engage  in  the  ceremony,. and  it  is  in- 
tended to  compliment,  retain  and  perpetuate  the  chas- 
tity of  Indian  maidens.  Only,  unpolluted  girls  are 
permitted  to  touch  the  sacred  armor  of  the  Dakota 
warriors,  and  during  the  ceremony,  they  use  white 
cedar,  which  Is  considered  wa-kan,  or  sacred.  Mrs. 
Eastman  says  that  the  "  Sacred  Ring  "  around  the  feast 
of  the  Virgins,  is Jormed  by  armf'H 


JwarriQrs  Jitting». 


»•'' 


none  but  a  Virgin  must  enter  this  ring.    The  warrior 
who  .knows,  is  bouftd  on  honor  and  by  old  tftcw^t 


wm 


THE  LAST  man! — STRANGE  BELIEFS. 


•i^ 


custom,  to  expose  and  publicly  denounce  any  tarn- 
ished maiden  who  dares  to  enter  this  ring,  and  his  word 
cannot  be  questioned— even  by  the  chiefs. 

The  mode  of  courtship  among  the  sexes  differs  some- 
what with  the  various  tribes  of  Indians  of  the  North- 
west, but  the  ultimate  end  of  obtaining  a  wife — by 
purchase — is  almost  universal.  Among  some  of  the 
tribes  of  the  Chippewas,  the  tourtship  is  usually  in  this 
way:  The  loving  girl,  if  she  favors  a  youn^man,  i:^ 
moves  from  the  side  of  her  mother  in  the  tepee,  where  ■< 
she  usually  sleeps,  and  cuddles  up  in  her  blanket  on  the 
left  of  the  entrahce  to  the  wigwam.  The  young  mkn 
goes  round  the  tepee  three  times,  and  if  she  does  not 
move  during  these  trips,  he  is  Assured  that  his  overtures 
are  acceptable.  He  goes  home,  and  at  the  exph-ation 
of  three  nights  comes  again,  and  finding  his  girl  still  iif 
the  place  where  he  left  her,  he  slips  in  under  the 
blanket,  where  the^courtship  is  carried  -on  during  the 
greater  portion  of  the  night.  Then,vif  everything  is 
agreeable,  he  formally  asks  the  father  for  the  hand  of 
his  daughter,  and  proffers  certain  articles  of  value,  a 
horse,  or  canoe,  or  blanket,  and  when  the  trade  is  com- 
pleted, the  two  are  married. 

Some  tribes  on  the  Missouri  river  insist  that  the  man 
who  wants  his  girl,  must  catch  her  while  on  horseback, 
and  for  this  purpose  a  very  fleet  pony  is  obtained,  the" 
girl  placed  upon  it,  and  the  contending  lovers  are 
obliged  to  follow,  and  the  one  who  catches  the  flying 
maiden  first,  can  claim  her  as  his  wife,  whether  she 
loves  him  or  not.  Of  course  woman's  wits  usually  win, 
for,  knowing  who  they  want,  they  guide  their  horses 
au  aa  tu  fall  inlu  llije  hanUH  of  their  lovercniTgspfeCtivd 
\)f  the  speed  of  the  various  animals. 


$*\ 


"r 


THE  LAST  MAN  !— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 


There  is  a  striking  resemblance  between  the  mode  of 
'^urtship  and  marriage  of  a  tribe  of  Arabs,  called  tj^e 
Bedouin,  and  the  North  American  Indians.     PalperK 
in  his  work,  says :  '       /        ^  I   ,    i 

"  The  intending  fcridegrd'Sm,  with  five  oij  six  (nends, 
call  upon  the  father  o(,  the  girl,  who  prepares  and  lets 
before  them  a  bowl  of  food  and  some  coffee,  and  when 
they  have^artaken  of  the  refreshments,  the  bridegroom 
opens  the  conversation  by  expressing  a  desire  for  a 
*  more  intimate  relationship  with  the  family.  *  \y el- 
come,'  replies  the  father ;  '  and  I,  in  turn,  require  a  thou- 
sand piastres  .of  you  as  a  dowry.'  After  a  great  deal  of 
noisy  discussion,  he  consents  to  an  abatement  of  '500 
or  600  piastres  of  the  sum,  and  the  bargain  is  con- 
cluded. This  is  the  signal  for  great  rejoicings  and  the 
young  men  of  the  party  amuse  themselves  with  various^ 
games  and  trials  of  skill,  shooting  at  an  ibex  head  set 
over  the  te^  door  as  a  mark,  being  one  of  the  most 
favorite  pastimes.'  The"  public  notary  of  the  tribe  is 
then  called  in ;  he  takes  a  piece  of  herb  and  wraps  it 
up  in  the  turban  of  the  intending  bridegroom.  Tak- 
ing both  of  their  hands  in  his  own,  he  places  the  folded 
turban  between  them,  and,  pressing  thenf  closely  to- 
gether, addresses  the  father  of  the  brWe:  'Are  you 
willing  to  give  your  daughter  f^^^rriage  to  such  an 
jpne,'  to  which  he  replies :  •  I  ari^^The  bridegro< 
asked:  .'Do  you  take  the  girl  to  wife  for  better 
wojjie?'  On  his  replying,  '  I  do  take  her,'  the  notary 
says:  'if  you  ill-treat  her  or  stint  her  in  food  or  ral- 
meiit,  the^sin  be  on  your  own  neck.*  The  questions 
ant  answers  are  repeated  three  times,  and  the  betrothal 
IS  then  considered  con(iplet6.»  Cthe  girl  herself  is  kept 
until  this 'time,  in  ignorance  of  the  transaction,  and. 


.^^u^ 


lj» , 


r 


164  THE  LAST  MAN  !— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 

should  she  get  ari  inklin|r  of  it,  it  is  considered  etiquette 
£91- her  to  make  a  show  of  escaping  to  the  mountfiiins.' 
"When  6he  returns  in  the  evening  from  tending  the 
flocks,  and  sits  down  in  her  father's.;,  tent,  they  place 
incense  on  some  lighted  embers  behind  her/  and  fumi- 
gate her  surreptitiously  as  a  protection  against  the  evil 
eye.    At  this  moment  the  notary  comes. stealthily  be^ 
hind  her  with  t^e  bridegroom's  mantl^  ih  his  hand,'^ 
which  he  suddenly  thro^ys  oyer  her,  excjafming:    'The 
name  of  God  be  with  thee  ! "    None  shall  take  thee  but 
such  an  one, '  naming  her  intended  husband/,  There- 
upon  the  girl  starts  up  and  tries  to  escape,  calling  upon 
her*  father  and  mother  for  help,  with,  loud  cries-  and 
shrieks;  but  sh^  is  seized  h^  the  women  who  have  col- 
lected round  her, -w^ile  they  repeat  the  notary's  words 
»[»  »?!^f^^s,  and  uttei^  th^  shrill  cries,  called  Zogha- 
ri^l    A  tent  is  next  erected  for  her  in  front  of  her 
father's  habitation,  ^to  which  she^s  cohducte<;!,  and : 
then  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  sheep,  sacnfieei|or 
the  occasion.     Here  she  ^remains  for  three  days,  at  the    ' 
end  of  which  time  she  is  conducted  by  a  procession  of 
women  to  'a  spring  of  living  wa^er,'  and  After  per- 
form ing  her  aWiQiis,'rts  led  home  to  the  house  of  her 
husband,  who  makes  a  gr6at  feast  in  her -honor.    The 
neighbors  also  sacrifice  a  sheep  as  a  contribution  to  the   ' 
entertainment,  and  receive,  as  weir  as  the  women  who 
have  assisted  in   the  ceremony,  a  trifling  present  in 
money  from  the  father  of  the  bride.     When  a  giri  who 
has  bestowed  her  affection  on  the  man  of  her  choice,  is 
compelled  by  her  friends  to  espouse  another,  she  takes 
advantage   of  the   three  days'  grace  allowed  l^er,  to 
fitapc  lu    the  tents  of  some  of  the  neighbors,  and 
throwing  herself  upon  their  protection,  refuses  to  leave 
-"*^-  ^       ■  ..     ■    '  ■.    fe   .'--'^;^r: 


i'^Jf^i 


B-ri9tfMt[<(>.i,fI-.  -f-hiiir- 


.^!^^^ 


fi£MilknJU^ii>Llt&iA.ibMlliii  < 


**''^'4i5'^*^'i  * 


L# 


^'  THE  UST  MAN  !—StRANG|:  BELIEFS.  165 

until  the  unwelcome  suitor  relinquished  his  elaim,  and 
an. arrangenrient  entered  into  between^  the  lover  and 
her  relatives.  Two  girls  who  were  .td  be  married  to 
men  they  did  not  likej  escaped  to  the/ mountains  and 
perished  of  hunger,  rather  than  prove  laithlesis  tp  their 
lovers."  _; '•.:..L.._..il..-._ ._: [_  4. _  .,,..^._.l _...  i'- 

The  usu«l  m6d^owever,attiortg  tile' Indian  v^f 
taining  a  wife,  is  by  pi|rchasfe.  '  It  is/  alleged,  by  those 
who  knq^^  that  when  ^n  Indian  miidenialls  in  love 
yith  a  white  man,  which  is  sometimes  the  case,  her  love 
is  more  ardertt  and  more  lasting  than  when  ehe  gives  her 
heart  to'  one  ^  Jier  own  tribe.  It  is  a  historical'  fact, 
that  several  Indfan  women  have  committed  suicide  be. 
cause  they  were  not  permitted  to  marry  white  men, 
whdm  they  devotedly  loved.  '    ^^     ^ 

The  Indians  have  very  few  gambling  games.  One, 
however,  resembles  our  game  of  dice,  and  is  largely  in. 
dulged  in.  It  consists  of  plum*  stones,  painted  black 
on  one  side  and  red  on  the  other.  They  are  placed  in 
a  dish  and  are  thrown  up  like  our -dice.  Hennepin 
says:  "There  are  some  so  given  to  this  game  that 
they  wift  gamble  away  their  coats.  Those  who  conduct 
the  game,  cry  at  the  top  of  |heir  voices  when  they  rat. 
tie  the  plates,  and  they  strike  their  shoulders  so  hard 
as  to  leave  tlj^all  black  with  the  blows."  The  game 
is  something^  "keno.".  -  \ 

'  All  Indians  are  susceptible  to  kindness  as  well  as  re- 
veng€!;  Charka,who  attached  himself  to  .george  H. 
Spencer,  a  trader  on  the*  frontier,  ^ved  his  life  a^hfe 
beginnmj^  a  Sioux  outbifgak,  at  the  risk  of  hisMp 


Anrta^KPfeuUets  of  his 


)rothej||iaad  the^Tmrnmg 
timbers  of  the  building  wl^h  tb||^ges  hadb^^,  he 
boldly  confronted  the  infuriate^fflbmons  s^nc^i^ite 


•f  . 


•-> 


1 66  THE  LAST  MAN  !— STRANGE  BELIEFS.  „ 

friend  was  saved  from  death,  alter  having^ been  shot 


Q 


&t^?°'  °^  Qther-Day,  a  good  Ih-. 
alf*>fif  the  whites  during  the 
red  lives.     But,  at  the 


hot  bi^^ 
the  whole! 


through  the  liih 
dian,  who  inter(| 
massacre  and 
same  time  the 

^Ai  In^h  \\4iMpSt^^pibipHpcoming  to  a  trapper's 
canH^^  an^|)egg«,  for  food."^ 'c)ne  ''day  he  ma^e  bis 
nee  *^  ^ual,   when   thtf|^trapper,  ^  out  *  of    all 
ith  hM%?ol^te»*Ml^pot  over  a  gallon  of 
jf^tijcii^^^^^^^  made„  and  pouring 

llritti!ll^^fe#feld  the  Indian  to  eat,  at 
the  s&peii^im^^t^^lj'ou^  m^  bea^  upon  his 

head  and  assur^^  him  Ihat  if  he  didn't  eat  all  he  would 
blpw  hisbfamlcjutl  The  Indian  tugged,  and  sweated, 
^nd.muncbecl|^nd  gulped,  and  mpaned,  %od  stretGhed, 
'until  ,the  wt^  gallon  was  gone,  when  he  took  his 
departure  and^as  never  known  to  come  to  that  camp 
again.  Some  #ne  after  this,  the  trapper  became  lost 
in  a  terrible  silMv  storm,  and  tired  and  weary,  and' 
liungry,  he  w'ant^red  around  until  he  struck  an  Indian, 
tepee,  and  on  enli^ring,  he  found  he  was  in  the  presence 
'of  his  lately  insulted  guest;  but  hunger  was  superior 
to  gopd  manners,  or  even  ordinary  discretion,  so  he 
asked  for  something  to  eat,  when  the  Indian  brought 
him  a  large  dish  of  maple  sugar,  and  seizing  his  guh, 
told  him  if.  he  did  not  eat  every  bit  of  it  he  would  kill 
him.  Fortunately  the  trapper's  appetite  was  ravenously 
^ood,  and  he  got  away  with  most  of  it,  but  found  it 
extreniely  hard  to  get  to  the  end.  He  pleaded  with 
the  Indian  to  let^him  off,  but  it  was  no  use.    ^5?aleftice' 

eat  ■' 


soupp^ 

sugar,  or  P<>^lcf^PB>^s ' "   ^^  the  poor  trapper  struggled 
^hrough^llliyHkifol  repast,  and  more  dead  than  alive» 


»*i 


^-\ 


TftE  X.AST  man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 


167 


left  the  tepee  impressed  with  the  conviction  tliat  it 
was  ".more  blessed  to  give  than  receive/*  especially 
when  a  bushel  of  sugar  Was  crowded  down  hi?  throat  at 
the  end  of  a  loaded  gun,  .held  firrhly  in  the  hands  of  a 
defiant,  revengeful  Indian],  » 

The  real,  genuine  amusement  of  the  Indian,. is  his' 
various  dances.,   lie   has.  the  Sun  .Dance,  the  .Dog 
Dance,  the  Beggar  Dance,  the  Bear  Dance,  the  Sacred 
Dance,  the  Medicine  pance,.the  War  Dance,  and  many 
other  dances  4:00  numer6us  tp  recapitulate.   \       ' 
Longv  describing  his  expedition  iii  1817,  writesj 
"When  we  hove  in  sight,  the  Indians  were  engaged 
in  a  ceremony  called  the  Bear  Dahce,  a  ceremony  which 
they  are  irt  the  habit  -of  performing  when  any  young 
man  is  desirbuS  of  bring  hintiself  into  pitrti^ukr  notice, 
and  is  considered  a  kind  of .  initiation  4nto  the  state  of 
ifianhood.    Therfe  was  a  kind  of  flag  made  of  fawn  skin 
dressed  with  the  hair  on,  suspended  on  a  piole.     Upon 
the  flesh  side  of  it  were  drawn  certain  figures,  indica- 
tive bf  the  dream  which  it  is  necessary  the  young 
man  should  have  dreamed  beifore  he  can  be  considered 
a  proper  £anditate  for  this  kind  of  initiation ;  with  this 
a  pipe  was  suspended  by  way  of  sacrifice.    Two  arrows 
were  stuck  jip  at  the  foot  of  the  pole,  arid  fragments  of 
painted  feathers,  etc.,  were  strewn^about  the  ground 
near  it.    These  pertained  to  the  religious  rites  attend- 
ing the  ceremony,  which  consists  in  bewailing  and  self- 
mortification,  that  the  Good  Spirit  may  be  induced  to 
pity  them  and  succor  their  undertaking.    Of  course,  all 
this  time  the  dance  is  going  on.  v 

f  two  ui  ihiee  hundicd  yM 
the  flagr.  is  an  excavation,  which  they  Call  the  Bear's, 
hole,  prepared  for  the  occasion.    U  is  about tw^'ftset 


■^    ShiA.j^^T 


^^g;^_'rm 


l68  THJE  LAST  MAN  i-^STRANGE  BELIEF'S. 

deep,  leading  across  it  at  right  angles.    The  young 
hero  of  the,  farce,  places  himself  in  this  hole,  to  be 
hunted  by.tlie  rest  of  the  young  men,  all  of  whom,  on 
this  occasion,  arc  dresse^ih  their  best  attire  and  painted 
m  their  neatest  style.  '•i;he  hunters  approach  t^  hole 
in  the  direction  of  one  of  the  ditches,  and  discharge 
their  guns,  which  were  previously  loaded  for  the  pur- 
posejyith  blank  cartridges,  at  the  one  who  acts  the  part 
of  the  bear;  whereupon  he  leaps  from  his  den,  having 
a  hoop  in  each  hand  and  a  wooden  lance,  the  hoop 
serving  as  fore  feet  to  aid  him  in  characterizing  riis  part 
and  his  lance  to  defend  himself  from  his  assailants! 
Thus  accoutred,  he  dances  round  the  place,  exhibiting 
various  feats  6f  activity,  while  the  other  Indians  pursue 
him  and  endeat^or  to  trap  him,  as  he  attempts  to  return 
to  his  den,  to  effect  which,  he  is  privileged  to  use  any 
violence  he  pleases  with  impunity  against  his  assailants 
>^nd  even  to  taking  the  life  of  any  of  them.  ,   ' 

i    "  This  part  of  the  ceremony  is  performed  threi  times 
pat  the  bear  may  Escape  frQip  his  den  and  return  to  it 
Ki^ain  through  three  of   the  avenues  communicating 
with  It.    On  being  hunted  from  the  fourth  pr  last  ave- 
nue, .the  bear  m^t  make  his  escape  through  all  his 
ibursuers,  if  possible,  and  flee  to  the  woods,  where  he  is 
to  remain  through  the  day.     This,  however,  is  seldom 
o|f  never  accomplished,  as  all  the  young  men  exert 
tliemselves  to  the  utmost  in  order  to  trap  him. "  When 
caught,  he  must  retire  to  a  lodge  erected  for  his  recip- 
tion  in  the  field,  f^om  all  society  throu^  the  dky  ex- 
ccpt  one  of  his  particular  friends  whom  he  is  aflowed 
to  take  with  him  W  an  attendant     - 


and  performs  vari^Lis  other  rites  whicWperstiti 
led  the  Indiai;i  to  belieye  are  sacred,    ^ter  tdj 


■'0 


THE  LAST  man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 


169 


mony  is  ended,  t^e  young,  Indian  is  considered  qualified 
to  act  any  part  as  an  efficient  -member  of  their  commiii- 
nity.  The  Indian  who  catches  the  bear  is  promoted  on 
the  first  suitable  occasion." 

The  Dog  Dance  is  only  a  solid  feast,  being  a  "  flow  of 
soul"  with  very  little  reason.  Dog  meat  is  held  in 
great  esteem,  and  hence  a  dog  feast  brings  out  tjie  finest 
qualities  of  the  Indian's  appetite.  It  is  really  a  time 
of  gayety,  and  the  dance  indicates  a  |^od  time  gener- 
ally. ■'    |.   m  -  ■ 

The  War  Dance  is;  perhaps,  in  one  ,sense,  the  jnost 
horrible  of  all  the  dances.  A  pole  is  erected,  on  which 
are  hung  the  scalps  of  the  enemy,  and  around  which  Ihe 
warriors,  profusely  painted,  dance  more  energetically 
than  on  any  other  occasion.  They  form  a  ring,  and  in 
the  midst  of  this  ring  are  the  musicians  With  their 
drums,  who  commence  beating  them  slowly,  and  the 
Indians  then  inaugu^e  their  peciiliar  hops,  ever  and 
anqj^  uttering  their^hos"  and  ^hi-yis,"  increasing 
their  motions  constantl>Mteiey  piss  round  in  a  circle. 
Then  the  driftns  beat  fSei^  aid  jjhe  warriors  dance 
faster,  and  their  yells  become  louder,  until,  when,  in  a 
state  of  terrible  frenzy,  their  eyes  iglitter,  their  f; 
become  hideous,  and  they  brandisl^  their  kjjives 
tomahawks  in  close  proximity  to  the  brains  bf .  their 
conipanions,  seemingly  to  almost  strike  th,em  in  their 
wild  and  determined  acdons.  Their  war-whoops  now 
become  simply  terVtl^j^pThey  increase  the  rapidity  of 
their  movements!  ^Theyyell,  they  wiggle,  they  throw 
their  arms  in  the  air,  and  on  a  moonlight  night  present 
flll  the  features  of  Pandemonium  broke  loose.  ^Thts  is 


kept  up  until  nature  is  completely  exhausted,  when 
some  one  of  the  wsurnpi^  steps  intp  the  ring  aojd  tells  wha^ 


■V* 


'w 


^-^^M^^-- 


^iiiliilliliil 


* 


M 


r 


170  THE  LAST  MAN  !— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 

he  has  done,  and  what  he  intends  to  do,  climbing  up 
into  the  grandiloquent  style,  being  loudJy  cheere<^  by 
his  companions ;  and  then  the  dance  is  over. 

The  Beggar  Dance  is  peculiar  to  itself  and  has  con- 
siderable significance.    The  Indians  gather  about  in  a 
dejected  manner,  and  the  drum  begins  its  slow,  monot- 
onous tpnes,  at  thf  same  time  the  Indians  begin  to 
bobjip  and  down,  as  though  one  leg  was  shorter  than 
'^^lL*^t"  *^^  danceJncreases  in  earnestness,  and 
dm&  mtst  themselves  of  their  clothing,  first 
throwing  off   blankets,  then  *<)|her  garments;    finally 
they  are  almost  in^a  state  of  nudity.    Some  Indians 
who  visited  my  camp  and  peKormed  this  dance,  were 
only  prevented  from  divesting  themselves  of  all  their 
garments,  or  such  as  they  had  on,%  my  timely  inter- 
ruption in  jhrresting  their  intentions  by  having  placed 
in  their  midst  two  sacks  of  |iour  and  an  abundance  of 
^tobacc^  When  <^e  supplied  %v  slo^yly  dance  until 
their  d^thing  isr^aced,and  thmgently  mov#away 
begt  always  sure  of  taking  their%sents  with  them. 
. -O-he  most  sickening  of  all  is  the  l|un  Dance.    An 
unkn;own  writer,  who  is  well  posted,iildescribed.rt"so 
^ell  and  so  accuratelyi^hat  I  append  his  aAunt; 
'    " Tl^ceremony  bfegins  at  sunrise  and  1^ ti  sun- 
tfown.  ^During  all  this  time  the  candidate  for  honors 
has  to  look  straight  at  the  sun  and  dance  ^^ithout  any 
"^^"^^"P^M'^^cept  to  take  an  occasional  puff  at  the 
^^%n«d  him  by  the  Medicine  man.    The  relatives 
^J^rvicttm  «r  ^«^nd  the  circle,  beat  the  drum— a 
WkdJetle  coyered^^tK  buckskin— and  sing  of  the  deeds 
of  grelt  warriors,  in  order  to  stimulate  td^^cat  exer- 
*u  «i,d  plucK,  lor  such  is  lid^  neederb^^he  poor 
devil  during  ^s  trying  ordeal.    Many  pf  O^jrwu^' 


■-^■WSt',1"  w^'igtwp  ■ 


1^ 


THE  LAST  man!— STRANGE  BELIEFS. 


171 


men  faint  away  during  the  dance^d  fail  to  graduate. 
The  ceremony  is  as  follows :    -  W 

"  There  are  long  strings  of  rawhide  or  rope^^d  to  a 
high,  upright  pole  or  tree,  upon  which  the  scalps  of 
slaughtered  enemies,  buffalo  skulls,  skunk's  tails  and 
medicine  bags  are  fastened.  The  victim  takes  his  posi- 
tion within  convenient  proximity  to  the  pole,  when  the 
Medicine  man,  with  a  large  double-edged  knife  or 
arrowhead,  niakes  two  parallel  slits  in  the  skin,  then 
runs  the  sharp  point  of  a  stick  of  wood  about  four 
inches  long,  into  one  of  the  slits  or  cuts,  underneath 
the  sinews  and  out*  of  the  other  slit  or  cut.  The  ends 
of  this  stick  of  wood  are  therLJastened  to  the  strings. 
This  process  is  inflicted  ir/four  places  upon  the  breast 
and  shoulders  of  the  aspirant,  who  then  commences 
dancing  and  turning  himself  around  and  about,  occa- 
sionally throwing  the  whole  weight  of  his  body  upon 
the  stirrup  by  which  he  hangs  suspended,  dangling  and 
swinging  in  the  air,  with  the  sole  object  of  succeeding, 
at  the  earliest  possible  moment,  of  tearing  out  the 
stitches,  sinews  and  all.  As  soon  as  this  is  accom- 
plished— usually  before  sundown — the  successful  grad- 
uate is  declared  a  great  warrior,  and  he  is  given  many, 
presents,  consisting  of  guns^  pistols,  horses,  buffalo 
robes,  calico  and  rings."  It  is  a  sickening  sight,  and 
partakes  of  the  quintessence  of  barbarism;  ^:.    ' 


>f 


ift 


— -?— 


y^i 


'4 


I'l 


•i^:  '* 


GENERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER. 

KIJftED  IN  THE   INDUN  FIGHT  WITH   SITTING  BULL. 

AS  this  gallant  soldier  was  engaged  for  some  years 

^«'",f"r'"'""^  fighting  the  Indians  on  our  froS 
,  and  finally  lost  hii  lifs  iti  n,*  i    ^  "  "■■  uur  irontier 

nn  fi,.  A  J    •  ■  *  '**'  g'^^t  IPdian  battle 

T  Mu^"!""^^"  continent,  it  seems  proper  tha  I 
should  briefly  inform  the  reader  who  this  hero  wis  and 
how  he  became  the  terror  of  the  red  men  of ThlS 
He  was  the  son  of  a  hard-working  Ohio  fatoer'act  ve'" 

at  the  age  of  sixteen  years,  taught  school  in  his  native 
town     Once  determined  to  go  to  West  Poin    he  ^ 

aid  a^h       r  ■"•"'  °'  P""^'^  '-"  •>-  own  Strict 

ceeded  ."t""'"^;''''  "y^^'-^e influences, he sut 
ceeded  m  gammg  the  position.     His  record  at  the 
Academy  was  not  a  brilliant  one,  nor  was  hrbehlv^l  " 
orthe  "goody-goody"   style,  for  he  was  full  of  m,V 

lass"    ^n    7^"^     "^  ^''""'''^'  «  f'ef    "o^ 
a  c  ass  of  thirty-four.    At  the  breaking  out  of  the  re. 

bellion  Custer  was  ordered  to  report  to  General  Scot 
and  when  active  militao.  events  fallowed  he^Tsp^ron  ■ 

JHull  Kun  He  ivas  on  the  staff  of  several  Generals 
but  finally  took  his  position  at  the  head  of  a  cavSn; 
regiment,  and  here  is  wheV«  he  exhibited  those  S 
traits  of  character  which  made  him  the  MarXlf  Ney 
^^-^^".^■""'ff"  °""y-     Nothing  seemed  to  daunr  o^ 


petuositv  of  ,  ^rT'T"  "P°"  thSlfoe  wiiFthe'im- 
petuosity  of  a  whirlwind,  and   the  southern  soldiera 


h 


SEVERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUST^^  I73 

^dowered  before  his  victorious  troopj||BBR  his  long, 
flowing  hair  hanging  down  his  shoul^^  his  slouch; 
hat,  his  embroidered  pants,  set  off  with  gold;  his 
bright-colored  shirt  and  necktie,  he  rode  at  the  head  of 
his  column  and  inspired  the  greatest  confidence  in  his 
men,  so  that  they,  partaking  of  the  leader's  spirit,  never 
faltered  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty  and  never  lost 
a  battle. 

For  one  of  his  hqjioic  and-  daring  achievements, 
wherein  the  confederated  forces  were  driven  back  in 
confusion,  he  was  promoted*  from  a  first  lieutenant  to 

\aj)rigadier.general,  and,  from  that  time  onward,  he 
rapidly  ascended  the, military  ladder,  until  he  reached 
the  topmost  round— a  major-genial— and  this  at  the 
eariy  age  of.  tWenty-six  years!  What  is  remarkable  is 
the  fact,  that,  ariiid  all  the  dangers  of  war— wild,  hor- 
rible,  and  terrific— he  was  only  wounded  ^nce.  One 
of  the  last  actions  in  which  General  Custer  was  en- 
gaged, while  fighting  for  the  Union,  was  his  attack 
upon  General  Lee's  army,  and  this,  with  the  solid 
gleaming  bayonets  of  our  infantry  under  the  leader. 

;  sWip  of  .Sheridan,  brought  out  the  white  flag,  the  enemy 
surrendered,  and'the  war  was  brought  to  a  close.   / 

In  i867^Custer  was  ordered  to  enter  the  field  in  pur- 
suit of.  the  Indfans,  pr,  rather,  at  this  period,  he  became 
identified  with  the  military  movements  which  were 
*hen  projected  for 'the  defense  of  the  frontier.  Strong, 
syfirefia«t, -self-willed,  disgusted  with  restraint,  he  left 
Fort  Wallace  without  orders,  and,  it  is  alleged,  made  a 

^journey  on  private  business,  for  which  he  was  \  court- 
"^arshale^j^  with  guspension  of  pay  and  rank  ior^joste^ 


M- 


year,  at  the  end  of  whiqh  time  he  wa»  recalled  into 
active  spryice,  and  from  thence  onward  to  the  period 


i^r^ 


~.cJt  ■ 


GENERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER. 


of  hfs  death,  he  becam^  a  marked  character  among  the 

■%  .1^  ■  many  eminent  generals  who  have  conducted  our  Indian^ 
4    ■       campaigns.' ^ ■'-  %,    ;•        '..' ..,\  :'^  fi  :■■;'':■■■  >: 


'  ^^-^,.ci"  *!*^  onslaughts,  in  the  fai'  V\^st,  Custer  never 


•'ti- 


"21^         -J  -       •%v*'>    >^MOfc«i    never 

Stopped  to  think.     His  idea  was~«Go:4n  and  cleSn 
-    them  out;  they  are  only  Indians! '^    This  is  illustrated 
in  his  stealthly  attack  upon  an  Indian,  village,  where 
Black  KettK -the  «^ief,  was  killed, -whom;  General 
Hacnejr  and  Colofiel   B^oh  declared  was  as  good  a 
friend  oi  the  D^hited  .States  as  they  were.     Had  Cust|f 
paused  a  moment^^  this  noble  old  Indian's  liffe  might '^•. 
have  been  saved.     But  the  peculiarities  of  thie  boy 
were  well  a^hionstrated  in  the  growth  of  the  man,  and  ' 
this  element  pf  character  finally  cpst  him  His  life,    In 
1873,  Gieneral  Custer  came  to  the  Hfew  Ncirthwest  and 
with  troops  escbrted  the  engineti-s  and  sd^eyors  of  the     : 
Northern  Pacific  xa|h-oad  into  the  Yellowstone  valley. 
Here  he.  became  acquainted  with- thg;.  fact,  that  all      ' 
^  Indian  had  killq^  two  elderly  men  ,bf  tfie  expedition^  ' 
and  he  had  him  arres;ed^and  he  w^^^mprisbned  in  t^Qtt    '-■ 
Lincc^p,  where  he  confessed  the'deed:    His  name  wis 
•Kain-in-the-Face,  and  he  sufeiacotly^  e^j^ped   fn>m 
the  fort,  joined  the  forces  <?LSitfing  Bull,  and -what. is^^. 
singular,  on  the  hotly^:ofjt<?Sj|^ttWfield,^  avenged, 
^im^f  by  kUIing  .the  great "wlili|!c!^iefl    And  such  is 

ii®^^'^*^  ^*®  expedition  tb^theteUowstone  valle^r,  !' 
CifW  was  ordered  to  ^proceed  V  to  the^  Black   Hills,''' 
where  he  located  his  troops, in ^  place  that  n«W  bear^  ' 
his  name  ;^ndthen/|ollown[ng  tW^  he  ii^  dijiegajtcd, 
by  Qeneral  Terry,  to  take. his  seventh  chivalry  regiment      ' 
and  follow  the  trail  of  Sitting  Bull,  so  %t  thr^X 


wdic? 


01  troops,  moving   froni  differ6hfe:Brie<%n^  Ughtf    ' 
encomfi^ss  the^9avages  and  destrty  then^^  but  hU  he 


^^v 


% 


^ 


*   i 


>  •*  > ' 


I 

10  J 


« J 


GEkERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER. 


I7S 


,;i^erformed  jthis  part  of  his. last  march  I  shall  reserve  for 
^  my  article  on  the  final  .great  Indian  battle  on  t^p 
western  pl^ns.  ^ 

The  following  from  the  pen  of  a  gentleman  who  ac- 
compahied  General  Custer  on  his  Yellowstone  expedi- 
/tion,  gives  a  more  excellent  insight  into  the  man's  char- 
^  acter,  than  anything  I  have  seen,  and  with  it  I  conclude 
nsy  notice  of  this  remarkable  military  hero,^^  only  regret- 
ting that  Jie  could  not  have  lived  fo  a  hale; and  hearty 

'      "General  Custer  was  a  bom  xiavalry  man.     He  was 

never  more  in  his  element^tjian  when  mounted  on 

Danby,  his  favorite  horse,  aiid  riding  at  the  head  of  his 

regiment.  vHcjw^as  the  personification  of  bravery  and 

da^h.  Tlf  he  had  only  added  discretion  to  his  valdf,  he 

would  have  bee,n  a  perfect  soldier,  f^  His  impetuosity 

often  ran  away  with  his  judgment.     He  was  impatient 

of<^ntroL    He  liked  to  act  independentV  of  others, 

and  take  all  thr^Hsk  and  all  the  gl^  to  bliijfclf.     He 

freguently  got  himself  into  trouble  by  assuming  more 

^  ttuthbiity  than  j-eally  belonged  to  his  rank.     From  the 

'  time  when  he  entered  Wesf  Point,  to  the'day  when  he 

Jrelt  oil  the  Big  Horn,  |ie  was  accustomed  to  take  just 

'  !as  much  liberty  as  he  was  entitled  to.    For  this  .reasoh» 

^CuSter  worked  most  easily  and  effectively  w^ien  under 

genelalgjrder^  when  not  hagipered  by  s|ecial  instruc- 

J^bns,  or  hl*^  sticcdsg  made  dependent  on  anybody  else. 

'general  Tepy  understood  his  manf  when,  in  the  order  di- 

*^fccting;hiftt!|i'marckup  jlh«  Rosebu<i,  he  very  lij^erally 

said  f  '  The'Departn9((|it  Commahder^laceg  tc>o  mucti. 


^y 


*' 


4», 


l^onfidenre  in  yrtur  f^l,  f  rtfffgy'^'and  %i\ity  to  wish  t» 


•  impose  upoii.  youii.precise  <)rdeilAwhk^r|inight  hampeV 
'tn-^K  actions  when. ncariy  in  ton^tfm  the  cffcmfc'       = 


;76 


** 


GENERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER. 


But  General  Terry  4id  not'  understand  Custer  if  he 
thought  he  would  wait  for  Gibbon's  support  be(ore 
attacking  an  Indian  village.  Undoubtedly^he  ought  to 
have  done  this;  but  with, his  native  impetuosity,  his 
reckless  daring,  his  confidence  ini  his  own  regiment, 
which  Had  never  failed  him,  and  his  love  of  public  ap-' 
proyal,  Custer  could  no  more  help  charging  this  Indiafi 
camp,  than  he  could  help  charging  just  so  many  bu^ 
faloes.  He  had  never  learned- to  spell  the  word 
'defeat;'  he  knew  nothing  but  success,  and  if  he  had 
met  the  Indians  on  the  open  prairie,  success  would *un. 
doubtedly  have  been  his;  for  no  body  of  Indians  could 
stand  the  charge  of  the  seventh  cavalry,  when  it  swept 
over  the  plains  like  a  whirlwind.  ^ 

"With  all  his  bravery  "and  self^ellance,  his  love  of 
indepedent  ^tion,  Custer  was  more  dependent  than 
most  men,  on.  the  kind  approval  of^s  fellows.    He 
was  even  vain ;  he  loved  di^lay  in  dress  and  in  action. 
He  would  pay  forty  dollars  for  a  pair  of  trooper  boots 
to  wear  on  parade  and  Have  everything  else  in  keeping. 
On  the  Yellowstone  expedition  he  wore  a  bright  red 
shirt  which  «iade  him  the  best  mark  for  a  rifle  of  any 
man  in  the  regiment.    On  the  next  campaign  he  ap- 
peared in  a  buckskin  suit.     He  formerly  wore  his  hair 
very  long,  letti;ig  it  fall   in  a  heavy  mass  upor)  his 
shoulders,  but  cut  it  off  before  going  out, to  the  l^lack 
Hills,  producing  quite  a  change  in  his  appearance.  But 
if  vain  and  ambitious,  Custer  had  none  6f  those  gteat 
vices  which  are  commoi-and  so  distressing  in  the  army. 
He  never  touched  Ii<Juor  In  any  form ;  he  did  not 
smoke,  or  chew,  or  ♦gamble.     He  wa^'a  man  »f  ^r^^^t 


ener^  and  remarkable  endvirance;    When  he  set  out 
loreacli  ascertain  point  at_a  certain  ||me, you  could 


».-, 


iii  Jta.  ., 


^fc.. 


GENERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER. 


b*sure  that  he  would  be  there  if  he  killed  every  horse 
in  the  command.  H^  was  sometimes  too  severe  inj 
enforcing  marches,  but  he  never  seemed  to  get  tired 
himself  and  he  never  .  expected  his  men , to  get  so. 
Whatever  he  did,  he  did  tlioroughly.  He  would  over- 
shobt  the  mark,  but  never  fall  sfiort  of  it.  He  fretted 
in  garrison  sometimes,  because  it  was  too  inactive;  but 
he  found  an  outlet  here  for  his  energies  in  writing 
articles  for  the  press. 

"  He  had  a  remarkable  memory.  He  would*  recall,  in 
its  proper  order,  every  detail  of  any  action,  no  matter,, 
how  remote,  of  which  he  was  a  particfpftntt  As  hes'was 
ap^  to  overdo  in  action,  so  he  was  apL^o^ exaggerate  in 
statement,  not  from  any  willful  disregard  bit  the  truth, 
but  because  he  saw  things  bigger  than  they  really  were. 
He  did  not  distort  the  truth;,  he  magnifiedU it.  He 
took  rose-colored  views  «/  everything.  He  had  a  his- 
torical  memory,  but  not  a  historical  mind.  He  was  no 
philospher;  could  read  off  from  his  mind  better  than 
he  could  analyze  or  mass  them.  He  was  not  a  student, 
or  a  deep  thinker.  He  loved  to  take  part  in  events 
ra|her  than  to  brood  over  them.  He  was  fond  of  funi 
geliial'and  pleasant  in  his  manners;  a  loving  and  de^ 
voteii,  husband.  He  had  many  most  excellent  traits  of 
character  which  will  live  long  after  the  memories,  of 
othfli Wrt  arc  forgottcii."    ;^ 


,.<' 


at 


:» 


f      1. 


N 


1 1 


% 


'  I 


MAJOR     GENERAL    TA-TON-KA-I-GrO. 

TON-KA;   OR,    SITTtNG    BULL. 

'T^HIS  Indian  deserves  the  rank  of  Major  General 
in  the  army  of  the  savages,  for,  of  all  the  chiefs. 


lie  was  the  most  implacable,  the  most  unrelenting,  the 
most  hostije,  the  most  sagacious,  and  the  most  desper- 
ate  foe  of  the  whites  of  any  chief  of  modem  times. 
He  never  assented  to  the  control  of  W  United  States 
Govemmertt  over  the  people,  but  p^stently  fought 
our  troops  whenever  they  came  .in  hisVay.     He  did 
however,  agree  to  make  a  treaty  with  the  good  Father 
De  SiTJet,  but  the  treaty  was  vidWted.     He  claimed 
that  the  country  belonged  to  the  Indians;  that  they 
had  a  nghtjo  hunt  and  fish  wherever  thev  pleased- 
tM  the  white  man  had  wronged  them; 'and  thus, 
appealmg  to  the  feelings  of  the  younger  portion  of  Ims 
•race,  induced  a  large  number  to"  follow  him,  and  lor ■ 
twenty  years  carried  on  his  wdr,  until  he  finaily  sujrren- 
dered  to  the  United  States  forces,  on  the  ig^^tlvi^' 

'*^'v.  ..;*•*.      f'\--''       ,'^^-"""'  -.. '  .'i*:'' ■'■'■'5  ^\i 

.  From  the  earliest  history  of' the  man,  dowfi  to  the 
time  he  yieldiid  his  power,  he  had  been  a  vindictive  and 
determined  enemy  of  tl^e  whites.  His  successful  raids 
and  savage  victories ;  fife  uhfalt^'ng  purposes  to  harrass, 
rob  and  kill  thesettkrs;  his  undaunted  couri^e  4nd 
wily  i^«ftning;  his  successful  battles  and  wise  coun. 
sels,  soon  elevated  him  to  the  highest  pitch  of  a  leadi^ig 
and  powtiful  chief,  aiid  he  gathered  abouthiin  men  of 
the  M^J^uliar  cast  of  mind,  and  continued  to  march 


A'C^iaii^  ^ 


TA-TON-KA-I-G-O-TON-KA,  OR  SITTING  BULL.      1 79 
*'■■•,■  .  , 

Ibrth  to  success  and  to  victory,  until  his  name  became 
well  known  in  every  part  of  this  country  and;  in  Europje. 
These  successes,  on  the  part  of  Sitting  Bulli  inspired 
the  Indian  he^f^^  so  that  many  who  were  living  on  the 
bounty  of  the  Government  at  the  various  agencies,  left 
and  joined  ^is  forces,  and  hence  he  was  a  constaijt 
«)urce  of  disjjurbance,  even  outside  of  his  own  imnr\e- 
diate  command.  Indians  who  were  peacefully  inclined, 
flocked  to  his  ranks,  and  for  a  time  he  put  at  defiance 
that  portion  of  the  army  of  the  Uniteii  States  then 
operating  on  our  frontier.       ,     , 

His  influence  ha4  become  so  great  and  was  working 
such  deleterious  eflfect  among  the  agency  Indians,  that 
finally  the  Department  at  Washington  was  obliged  to 
take  pjjilmpt  measures  to  prevent  a  general '  outbreak 
among  the  friendly  Indian  tribes,  and  to  this  end  Sit- 
ting Bull  and  his  followers  were  ordered  to  come  in  on 
to  the'  Reservation,  or  they  would  fall  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  military  power.  Sitting  Bull  laughed  at 
theH  commands  of  the  Indian  Department,  and  still 
cohtinued  his  raids ;  and  thei\  followed  the  campaign 

,  ^  of.  1876,  inaugurated  by  General  Sheridan,  wherein  three 
pow^fful  colunjns  of  trooj)s#were  to  move  simultan- 
jsously  upon  the  enemy  and  force  them  either  into  civil- 

'  "  itation  or ;<53rtennination.  In  the  attempt  to  carry  out 
this  movement,  which  was  a  wise  one,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered Geo^al  Crooks  was.jrepulsed,  and  General  Custer, 
fn  hisedgemes^  to  make  an  attack  without  proper  sup- 
:>  port,  Which  could  haye  been  obtained,  brought  on  a 
fight  in  ^hich  he  and  his  men  werfeLdl  killed,  leaving 

»^e!if '  Ko  such  l^ian  battle  was  JV  known 


\ 


|n  this  country ;  and  such  a  (^mplete  In^an  vktoiyiwi 


l8o     TA-TON-J^A-I-GO-TON-KA,  OR  SITTING  BULL. 

'A 

no  parallel  in  history,  and  we  are  forced  to  the  conclu- 
sron  that  it  could  have  been  avoided  had  General  Custer 
not  been  milled  as  to  the  number  of  Indians  in  the  vil- 
lage, or  had    he  refrained  from  an .  4ttack,  or  had  he 
promptly  informed  General  Terry  when  he  first  iiscov^ 
ered  the  Irjdian  camp,  and  waited  for  his  supporf         I 
After  this  battle  thj^'savages  crossed  into  Cknada^ 
and,  notwithstanding  there  were  several  Indianffight^ 
on  this  side  of  the  boCindary  line  subsequently,  yet 
Sitting  Bull  took  no  part  in  them  for  a  yeat.  I  Then 
the  old  chieftain  began  agatrt^o  commit  depredations 
among  thi^mericans,  "knd,  finally  a  commissioner  was 
appointed  by  the  United  States  Government  to  cross 
the  line  and  tr^to  effect,  by  diplomacy,  what  had 
failed   by  forte  of   arms.     In   the  meantime  Sitting 
Bull's  ioxws  had  greatly  decreased  by  the  return  of  the 
outlaws  back  into  the  agencies  whence  they  originally 
had  come ;  and  here  they  were  fed  and  petted  again 
by  a  great  Government,  which  had  failed  to  subdue 
-them,  and  which,  when   these  renegades  were  in  its 
power,  Tiad  failed  to  punish  them.     Through,  the  inter- 
cession of   British  officers,  the   Peace  Commissioners 
were  ushered  into  the  preserice  of  the  august  chieftain, 
who  disdainfully  refused  to  shake  hand*  with  them,' 
and  arrogantly  demanded  that  they  should  come  out 
from  behind  the  table  they  were  sitting  around,  and 
speak  the  truth  to  his  chiefs.     No  such  audacity  was 
ever'  shown  before  in  the  history  of  the  Indian  race; 
and  then,  after  all  the  humiliating -promises  made  by 
the  Government,  Major-general  Sitting  Bull  sneeringly 
rejected  every  overture  for  peace,  and  the  Commission 


njj  nmidicd  up  the  hill,  mai"Cfte.d  dowiT  agailvKT 


:    'V 


fcA5 


-i^-M^i^  ■  «.-ditfi,s* 


TA-TON-KA-IG-OTON-KA,  OR  SITTING  BUtL.'    i8l 

the  grijn  old  soldier  quietly  smoked  his  pipe  inside  of 
the  walls  of  his  greasy  tepee. " 

Matters  »ow  continued  quiet  with  Sitting  Bull  for 
nearly  one  year  and  a  half,  when,  in  1879,  he  broke  out 
again  and  commenced  his  depredations  upon  the  set- 
tlers. He  was  met  by  General  Miles  and  a  battle  ensued, 
Sitting  Bull  beipg  in  command  in  person.  But  fearing  ' 
that  the  whites  would  be  reinforced,  he  wisely  with- 
drew his  warriors  and  retreated  to  the  British  posses- 
sions,  where  he  remained  peacefully  until  he  gave  up 
his  arms  to  the  American  forces.  Then  followed  the 
surrender  of  Rain-in-the-Face,  Crow  Wing,  Chief  Gaul,/ 
and  many  thousand  Indians,  leaving  Sitting  Bull  with 
only  a  few"  disheartened  warriors,  and  finally,  sullenly 
and  in  a  defiant  manner,  he  succumbed  to  the  inevit-' 
able  march  of  the  white  race,  came  within  our  lines  and 
everybody  felt  better  and  breathed  freer  when  h^  sur- 
rendered."  ^'    .■.'■■■'•■"'    ■"'   ''    • 'v  ■  1  •;■-''"'■'■ " 

J.  E.  Walker,  Esq.,  who  witnessed  the  capitulation  of 
Sitting  •Bull,  saysi^       \  [    \k^^  *      '    ' 

"  With  the  last  remnant  othis  people,  some  two  hun- 
dred souls,  old  men,  women  and  children,  the  old  war- 
chief  arrived  at  Fort  Buford,  Dakota,  at  ribon  on  July 
19,  1 88 1.  At  the  head  of  the  mournful  cortege  rode 
Sitting  Bull,  Four  Horns,  Red  Thunder,  and  other  sub- 
chiefs  on  their  ponies,  and  following  came  six  army 
wagons  loaded  with  the  squaws  and  children,  and  be- 
hind them  cai^  some  twenty-five  Red  river  carts  con- 
taining their  baggage.  They  presented  a  forlorn  and 
pitiful  q>pearance,  the  great  Sitting  Bull  himself  being 
V^ry  dirty  and  vfrry  hungry;  h'm  Jwf  wenring  a  aullftn, 
bull-dog  expression ;  his  dress  and  appearance  bearing 
Mirks  of  ti^  hardships  and  destitution  tee  had  recently 


i8j    ,  TA-TON-KA-I-aO-TON-KA  OR  SITTING  BULI^ 


experienced.  Yet,  urttil  called  upon  to  surrender  his 
arms,  he  preserved  under  this  the  most  trying  ordea}  to 
a  savage,  a  dignified  and  unbroken  silence.  Thus 
^ended  the  Indian  war  in  the  Northjvest~the  closing  o 
■he  five  years'  campaign  against  the  most  remarkable 
^  dian  leader  of  modern  times.  ^ 

\"  While  the  last  act  of  the  drama,  the  final  scene  ii^ 
Sikingf  Bull's. career  as  a  warrior,  was  enacted  at  nooii^ 
July  20,  1881,  and  when,  by  the  hand  of  his  little  son,^ 
he  ^livered  up  the  rifle  he  had  carried  throughout  so 
manlbloody  fields, jHe  great  chieftan  spfeke  as  follows : 
'I   surrender  this  rifle  tp  you  through  my  young  son, 
whom\l  now  desire  to  teach  in  this  manner,  that  he  has 
becomda  friend  of  the  American  people.    Iwish  him 
to  le^nUhe  habits  of  the  whites  and  to  be  edycated  as 
their  sonte  are  educated.   Ywish  it  to  be  remembered 
that  I  waj,  the  last  man  of  my  tribe  to  surrender  my 
rifle.    T|iik  boy  has  given '  it  t6  you,  and  he  now  wants 
to  know  hoW  he^sf  going  to  make  a  living.     Whatever 
you  have  tq  Vive  and  whatever  you  have  to  say,  I  woiild 
like  to  receiv^or  hear  now,  for  I  dbn't  wish  to  be  kept 
in  darkness  logger.     I  have  sent  several  messengers  in 
here  from  time  \6  time,  but  none  of  th*em  have  returned 
with  news.    Thte  other  chiefs.  Crow  AVing  and  Gaul,  . 
have  not  wanted  W  to  come,  and  I  have  never  received  ' 
good  news  from.  hVre.     I  wish  now  to  be  allowed  to 
live  this  side  of  ]^nfe  lin^or  the  other,  «is  I  see  fit.     I 
wish  to  continite  my\ol<^  life  of  hunting,  but  would  like 
to  be  allowed  to  tradAon  both  sides  of  the  lit{e.    This 
is  my  country,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  compelled  to 
give  it  up.     My  heart  As  very  sa/j  at  having  to  l^avf 
^         tfee  mother's  cbuntry.    ^e  has  be<jn  a  friend  to  me> 
but  I  want  my  childrenVo  grow  u£  in  my  native 


jHfa|^^< 


\ 


*►". 


? 


.  -H- 


TA^TON-KA-I-G-O-TON-KA,  OR  SITTING  BU 


IX. 


183 


^country,  and  Jewish  also  to  feel  that  I  can  visit  two  of 
my  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  line  whenever  j  I 
wish,  and  wpuld  like  to  trade  with  Legare,  as  he  has 
always  been  a  friend  to  me.  I  wish  to  have  all  my 
people  live  together  upon  one  reservation  of  our  own 
on  the  Little  Missouri.  I  left  sevehil  families  4t  Wood 
Mountain  and  between  there  and  Qu'App^lle.  I  have 
many  people  among  the  Yanktonaise  at  Poplar  Creek, 
and  I  ,wish  all  of  them  and  those  who  have  gone  to. 
Sfanding  Rock,  to  b^  cojllected  together  upoii  one  res- 
ervation. My  people  have,  many  of  them,  been  bad. 
All  are  good  now,  that  their  arms  and  ponies  have  been 
taken  from  them.  (Speaking  to  the  officer :)  >You  own 
this  ground  with  me,  and  we  must  try  arid  help  each 
other. ,  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  here  until  I  get  all  the 
people  I  left  behind.  I, would  like  to  have  my  daugh- 
ter, who  is  now  at  Fort  Yates,  sent  up  here  to  visit  me, 
as  also  eight  men,  and  I  would  like  to  know  that  Legare 
is  to  be  fewatded  for  his  services  in  bringing  me  and 
my  people  here.* "  '  \^^ 

Sitting  Bull,  Rain-in-the-Face,  Gaul,  Long  Dog, 
Spotted  Horn  Bull,  Eagle,  Grey/Ejigle,  Flying  By, 
C^y  Eagle  and  other  chiefs  of  his  tribe,  with  some 
ti^re^  thousand  of  his  people,  are  now  at  Standing  Rock 
agency,  Dakota,  on  the  Missouri  river,  and  thus  ends 
the  unparalleled  career;  of  this  greatest  of  mod'oii 
Indian  chiefs.' 


'•  ^ 


'fit 


''^«-v. 


-# 


w 


'».■ 


THE  JLi^0  GREAT  INDIAN  BATTLE 
ON  THE  AMERICAN  CONTINENT. 

IN  WHICH  GENERAL  CUSTER  LO^  HIS  LIFE  AN© 
SITTING  BULL  BECAME  THE  VICTORIOUS  CQKi 
QUfROR. 

"  Ye've  trailed  me  through  the  forests, 
YeVe  tracked  me  o'er  the  plain, 
But  with  your  bristling  bayonets/  .';         , 

Ye  ne'6r  shall  track  again.'^f.        "^  '>        ^^ 

T'  « 
HE  reader  who  has  perused  the  pages  of  this 
book,  treating  of  the  lives  of  General  Custer  and 
Sitting  Bull,  must  now  be  pretty  well  prepared  to  learn 
of  the  final  conflict  between  two  of  the  most  noted 
warriors  of  modem  times—the  one  the  representative 
of  civilization,  the  other  the  representative  of  bar- 
barism.        ^ 

As  has  already  been  narrated,  General  Teny  sought  to 
mas§  three  columns  of  troops  upon  the  savages,  from 
three  different  points,  fo;-.  two  reasons:     First,  to  pre- 
vent the  Indians  from  escaping;  an^  second  to  force 
them  to  surrender  or  annihilate  them.     To  this  end 
2,706  men,  divided  into  three  columns  of  1,300,  400 
and  1,000  each,  started  out  in  the  year  i8;6,  in  pursuit 
of  the.  savages  under  Sitting  Bull,  then  supposed  to  be 
somewhere  in  the  Yellowstone  valley,  and  numbering 
about  3,000  warriors.    These  columns  qf  troopl-wei^  " 
^Qg'atiually  encircle  the  Indians,  and  to  pounce  46wn 
~6pd«.4hcnr-S«^ith  such  irrejMstible  f orce  as  to  completely^^^ 
overpower  them,  Genei^l  Gibbons  coming  in  from  one 

^ :  m-\      ^^      -    -  ■/        ■  -     ■ 


ifi 


f^'\ 


iiX^k.^'^XJL-W  ^ 


THE  LAST  GREAT  INDIAN  BATTLE. 


185 


direction,  General  Terry  from  another,  and  Custer  from 
.another.    The  latter  officer  was  to  be  at  the  head  of  his, 
favorite  regiment,  the  seventh  cavalry,  consisting  of 
28  officers  and  747  men,  then  pronounced  in  ^splendid 
condition ;  and  when,  therefore,  Major  Reno  came  in 
from  his  scouting  expedition,  reporting  a  heavy  Indian 
■*|rail,  ten  days  old.  General  Terry  decided^upon  his  mode 
of  attack  and  the  disposition  of  his  forces.    Custer  was 
to  ascend  the  valley  of  the  Rosebud,  tuhi  toward  the 
Little  Big  Horn  river,  keeping  well  to  the  south,  while 
Gi|Mp»s  was  to  cross  the  Yellowstone  at  the  mouth  of 
BipRorn  river,  and  march  up  the  Big  Horn  to  its  junc- 
tion with  the  Little  Big  Horn,  to  co-operate  with  Custer. 
The  general's  Indian  fighting  qualities  were  so  well 
known  to  Terry,  that  in  giving  his  orders  to,  him,  he 
distinctly  stated— "  that  h6  would  not  impose   upoti 
him   precise  orders  which  might  hamper  his  actions 
when-  nearly  in  contact  with  the  enemy ; "  and  hence  I 
think. herein  was  the  great  mistake  of  the  expedition, 
for,  had  Terty  given  positive  instructions  to  Custer, 
first  to  hunt  out  the^  Indians,  then  to  inform  him  where 
they  were,  then  to  come  to  a  halt  and  await  support, 
there  isno  doubt  but  Custer  would  be  alive  to-day,  and 
Sitting  Bull  would  be  dwelling  in  hi?  happy  hunting 
ground,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  white  man's  bullets. 
But   these   orders  were  not   given,   for  reasons  best 
known  to  General  Terry,  and  Custer,  acting  out  the  im- 
petuous impulsiveness  of  his  nature,  after  discoverirtg 
the  Indians,  ordered  Major  Reno,  with  three  companies, 
to  cross  the  Rosebud  river  on  the  left,  attack  the  enemy 
in  the  ffcar,  while  hepyith  five  companieynmnbering^ 


f^ 


upwards  of  three  hundred  men,  would  move  forward  on 
the  right  and  make  an  attack  in  front.    Two  other 


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i86 


THE  LAST  GREAT  INDIAN  BArri*; 


companies  were  ordered  to  make' a  detour  south  of* 
Reno.  In  the  meantime  General  Terry,  with  his  cavalry 
and  the  battery,  hsd  pushed  on  with  the  hope  of  opening 
up  communication  with  Custer^  as  Terry  no  doubt* fulfy 
believed  that  Custer  \youId  rpfrain  from  making  an-at- 
tack  on  the  Indians  village  until  he  (Terry)  was  within 
supporting  distance,  and  he  was  hurrying  forward  to 
.effect  this  result,  when  three  Crow  Indians,  who  started 
out  with  Custer's  )segiment,  came  into  camp  and  re- 
ported that  a  battle  .had  been  fought  and  thd  Indians 
were  killing  white  men  in  jgreat  numbers. 

It  seems  that  Major  Reno  entered  the  woods  on  the 
left  of  the  Rosebud  and  made  the  attack  as  ordered, 
but  he  was  overpowered  by  great  numbers  of  Indians, 
and  finally  retreated  acrods  the  river  under  a  galling 
fire,  and  gained  a  rise  of  ground,  where  he  rapidly 
threw  up  retrenchments  and  put  himself  on  the  defens- 
ive*   The  other  two  companies^from  the  south  soon- 
joined  him,  and  here  a  desperate  effort  was  made  by 
the    enemy  to    dislodge    him,  but  without    success. 
While  this  was  going  on,  General  Custer  had  passed 
down  the  north  banks  of  the  river,  and  had. made  two 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  cross  it,  but  was  repulsed  by 
the  Indians,  who  outnumbered  him  some  fifteen  to  one, 
and  after  stubbornly  contesting  this  point.,  he  fell  back 
to  a  small  eminence,  and  there  the  battle  raged  most 
terrifically.    Soldiers  and  horsese- fell  from  the  unerring 
bullets  of  the  Indians  like  wheat  under  the  stroke  of 
the  scythe.    TWs  brave  men,  led  by  their  brave  but 
♦deceived  leader,  continued  to  close  up  the  gaps  made 
by  the  enemy,  until  not  a  living  soul  was  left  upon  the" 
"fi'^-    All  was  5tnTt"^U  was  gone  m^^^TiUSdred 
men !  hundreds  of  horses !   the  most  gallant  cavaliy 


ft 


m4^ 


-I,.. 


ON  THE  IJilERICAN  CONTINENT. 


187 


oflficef" America  ever ,. produced,  had  passed  out  of  life, 
out  of  activity,  out  of  reality,  (Ifi^n  into  the,  shadow*<y£ 
death!       •■ '-■  4-'         ■  -■1^*-v-  '■''''■''■'    '''■'- 

Sitting  Bull  and  his  chiefs,  satiMed  with  the  copious 
blood  of  the  pale  faces,  and  fearful  of  the  advancing 
troops,  called  off  their  men  from  any  further  attack  on 
Reno ;  gathered  up  their  scattered  village  and  moved 
outside  of  the  limits  of  harm,  while  Terry,  coming  up 
with  his  reserved  forced,  found  only  a  beseiged  camp 
(Reno's),  a  silent  battle  field,  mutiliated  bodies,  an 
Indian  victorj^,  a  triumphant  chief  moving  securely  out- 
side-of  the  range  of  civilized  guns,  and  gloating  over 
the  ruin  he  had  made! 

•   Curley,  a  Crow   Indian,  who  was  with  Custer,  two 
other    scouts,  and    "  Comanche,"^  one  of  the  officers* 
hotsesi  were  the  only  living  beings  and  creatures  that 
escaped  from  that  doomed  battle  field.    Curley  gives  , 
his  story, as  follows: 

"  Custer  kept  down  the  river  oh  the  north  bank  four 
miles,  after  Reno  had  crossed  to  the  south  side  above. 
Thought  Reno  would  drive  down  the  valley  to  attack 
the  village  at  the  upper  end,  while  he  (Custer),  would 
go  in  at  the  lower  end.  Custer  had  to  advance  further 
down  the  river  and  further  away  from  Reno  than  he 
wished,  on  account  of  the  steeg^i^Siank  al^ng  the  north 
side ;  but  at  last  he  found  a  forcTind  dashed  for  it.  The. 
Indians  met  him  and  poured  in  a  heavy  fire  from  across 
the  narrow  river.  Custer  dismounted  to  figjit  on  foot, 
but  could  not  get  his  skirmishers  t>ver  the  stream. 
Meantime  hundreds  of  Indians  on  foot  and  on  ponies, 
rushed  over  tlie  river,  which  was  only  about  three  feet 
deep,  and  filled  the  ravine  on  each  side  of  Custer's  men. 
Custer  then  fell  back  to  some  high  ground  behind  him 


S 


) 


'* 


j. 


.  i&Jk  i^.«^ 


i88 


'  i; 


■■>■■  V 


tHE  LAST  GREAT  INDIAN  BATTLE: 


and  seized  the  ravines' in  his  immediate^nity.    The 

Indians  com|>letely  surrounded  Custer,  arfd-fbured  in  a 

terrible  fire  on  all  sides.    They  charged  Gusteron  foot 

in  vast  nunibers^  but  were  again  and  again  driven  back. 

•1  he  fight  began  about  twoo'clock  andJasted  almost 

ijntil  the  sun  went  down  over  the  hUls.    The  men  fought 

desperately,  and  after  the  ammunition  in  their  belts 

,  was  exhausted,  weht  to  their  saddle-bags,  got  more 

-    and  continued  the  fight.    Custer  lived  until  nearly  all 

his  men  had  been  killed  or  wounded,  and  went  about 

"    TTl^^t^  ^'"  '^^^^'''  *^  ^^^'  ?"•     "^  &°t  ^  'shot  in 
the  left  side  and  sat  down  with  his  pistol  in  his  hand; 

Another  shot  struck  Custer  in  the  breast,  and  he  fell 
over.    The  M  officer  killed  was  a  man  who  rode  ^ 
^  white  horse.  . 

"When  he  saw  Custer,  hopelessly  surrmmded,  he' 
watched  his  opportunity,  got  a  Sioux  blanket,  put'iton 

.  and  worked  up  a  ravine,  and  when  the  Sioux  charged 
he  got  among  them  and  thev  did  not  know  him  from' 
one  of  their  own  men.  Th^re  were  some  mounted 
Sioux,  and  seeing  one  fall,  he  ran£o  him,  mounted  his 
pohy  and  galloped  down  as  if  ^mt  toward  the  white 

^  men  but  went  up  a  ravine  andf^Rway.  As  he  rode 
off  he  saw  when  nearly  a  mil^,  from  the  battle  field  a 
dozen  or  more  soldiers  in  a  ravine  jightmg  with-Sioiix 
all  around  them.  He.thinks  all  were  killed,  as  they 
were  outnumbered  five  ^to  one  and  apparently  dii 
fnounted.    The  battle  was  desperate  in  the  extreme 

kilfed"^'"''''  ^"'^'^-"'  *^^"  ^^'^^  ""^^   """'^   ^"^^^  ^^^"^ 

KiU  Eagle,  w!io  was  in  Sitting  Bull's  camp  at  the 

time  of  the  battle,  d«Dcribta  llie  village  as  six  ttii'les 

long  and  one  wide.      He  then  speaks  of  Custer's  ap- 


A 


*--*«*& 


.ON  THE  AMERICAN  CONTINENT. 


189 


proach  and  fight,  with  its  tragic  details  as  an  anwilHiW 
spectator  rather  than  as  a  participant,  w^o,  during  ^ 
progress,  remained  quietly  in  his  lodge  in  the  center  of 
.^e  Indian  village.  The  fi^t  with  Reno  commenced 
about  noon,  the  Indians  all  rushing  to  oppose  his  ad- 
vance until  the  approach  6f  Gustfer  toward  the  end  of 
the  village  was  announced,  wTien  the  wUdest  confusion 
prevailed  throughout  the  camp.      Lodges  were  struck 

,  and  preparation  made  for  instant  fight.  Vast  numbers 
of  Indians  left  Reno's  front  and  hastened  to  the  assist- 
ance of  their  red  brethren  engaged  with  Custer,  who 

-was  steadily  forced  back  and  surrounded  until  all  were 
swept  from  the  field  by  the  repeated  charges  of  the 
Indians.  ■  . 

He  describes  the  firing  at  this  point  as  simply  ter- 
rific, and  illustrated  its  force  by  clapping  his  hands 
together  with  great  rapidity  and  regularity.  Then 
came  a  lull  in  the  fearful  storm  of  iron  and  hail,  and 
his  hands  were  still  again,  the  storm  beat  fast  and 
furiout,  as  the  .thought  of  some  loved  one  nerved  the 
ann  ^of  each  contending  trooper.  Then  the  movement 
of  his  hands  slackened  and  gradually  grew  more  feeble 
A  few  scatter/ril  shakes,  like  the  rain  upon  a. window- 
pane,  and  then  the  movement  ceased,  as  the  last  of 
Custer's  h^nd  of  heroes  went  down  with  the  setting 
sun.  i  ^ 

It  was  dark  when  the  successful  Indians  returned 
to  camp,  littered  with  theii*  dead  and  wounded.    "We  ' 
have  killed. them  all,'.'  they  saidj  "put  up  your  lodges 
where  they  are."    They  had  just  begun  to  fix  ^r 
lodges  that  evening  when  a  report  came  that  troops 


~  coward  the  molitK  of  the  creek. 

When  this  report  came,  after  dark,  the  lodges  were  all 


V 


^• 


^~^-^y^_^^^^ 


/ 


190  THE  LAST  GREAT  INDIAN  BATTLE.  " 

■-  •  ■  :.-i      ■.'.■■,        ■•'■■■'.■''  '  --^'^ 

taken  down,  and  the  Indians  started  upJ^he  creek.     It 
was  not  to  the  Indians  a  bloodless  victory.    Fourteerv 
.    had   fallen  in  front  of   Reno,  thirty-nine  went  down 
-with  .Custer,  and  fourteen  were  dead  in  camp.     Over 
one  hundred  were  wounded.    There  were  no  white 
^  men  amon^  the  Indian  forces,  in  the  fight,  or  on  the 
■    field.   The  bugle  calls  were  sounded  by  an  Indian.    No 
prisoners  were  taken^     The  troops  were  all  killed  on 
the  east  side ;  none  crossed  the  river. 
^^  Little  Buck  Elk  was  present  at  the  fight  and  said : 
,     "The  Indians  were  as  thick  as  bees  and  there  were  so 
many  of  them  that  they  could  tiot  all  take  part.    The 
"  soldiers  were  all  brave  men  and  fought  well)  some  of 
tl;iem,  when  they  found   themselves  surrounded   and 
overpowered,  brokd  through  the  lines  ?nd  tried  to  make 
their  escape,  but  were  pursued  and  killed  miles  from 
the  battle-field.    The  Indians  captured  six  battle  flags. 
No  soldiers  were  taken  alfve,  but  after  the  fight  the 
w<S)Qieh  went  among  the  dead  bodies  and  robbed  and 
^  miiftiMed  them." 
•    It  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  Indians  do  not  understand 
the  paraphernalia  of  war.     They  have  out  their  spies, 
their  scouts  and  their  skirmishers,  and  are  generally 
well  frosted  on  the  movements"  of  their  enemy.     For 
instance,  a  spy  overlooking  the  rendezvous  of  soldiers, 
conveys  the  information  by  running  to  another  Indian 
stationed  a  certain  distance  from  him,  of  how  many 
troops  there  are,  etc.,  and  he,  in  turn,  runs  to  anoth^, 
and  so  on,  until  the  news  reaches  the  camp  of  the  chief, 
though  it  may  be  many  miles  away.     Then  they  fc^rm 
coalition  with  the  other  bands,  as  in  the  case  of  the 

f^ftrey^ 


which  they  move  their  men,  one  of  which  is  the  "Hi- 


™— i-4< 


dr 


.*• 


O^ 


ON  THE  AMERICAN  CONTINENT. 


191 


yi-yis  "  of  their  chiefs  which  means  "  follow  us."  Again 
they  convey  significant  signs  great  distances,  both  by 
smoke  apd  by  the  rejection  of  the  looking  glass,  or  by 
some  bright  metal.      ' 

The  great  major-general  of  the  Sioux  army,  Sitting 
Bull,  was  well  inforn^ed  as  to  the  action  of  Terry's  sol- 
.  diers,  long  before  they  left  for  an  attack,  and  as  he  had 
been  drawing  from  the  agency  Indians,  not  only  men 
but  means  to  prosecute  the  war,  and  had  made  alliances 
with  other  bands,  he  was  well  prepared  to  meet  the 
issue;  and  Custer,  instead  of  confronting  2,000  warriors, 
as  he  expected  to,  fell  into  thehands  of  5,000 !     If  Gtti- 
eral  Terry  had  not  come  up  just  as  he  did,  Reno  and 
his  men  would  have  shared  the  same  fate  as  Custer,  be- 
cause the  Indians  would  have  pitclied  theii^  tepees  near 
the  battle-field  and  in  the  morning  would  have  renewed 
the  attack  and  with  entire  success.     Hearing  that  rein- 
forcements were  coming  to  the  whites,  they  moved 
away  and  finally  crossed  into  the  British  possessions. 

Taken  all  together  history  will  point  to  this  as  the 
greatest  Indian  battle  on  American  soil,  and  especially 
so,  as  involving,  the  gallant  fighting  characteristics  of 
two  of  the  greatest  warriors  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
the  one  nob^  and  heroically  mejeting  his  death  upon 
the  battle-field,  against  superior  numbers,  the  other 
now  a  captive- in  the  hands  of  the  whites,  against  whom 
he  had  so  long  and  so  successfully  fought. 

Now,  after  all  this,  if  Major-General  Sitting^  Bull  de- 
sires civilization  for  his  people— desires  education  for  his 
children— desires  sincerely  to  adopt  the  habits  of  the 
whites,  let  us  give  him  the  helping  hand.    He  Was  great 

iw-t--?:^-t--"::ra:-t:-z-rfi -— r-*' ■■■■■ ^■■■-  ■- •  ■■--■-■■ TiV 


TinTrsTasl  Battle,  and^TTe  may  yet  prove  greater  sUll  in 
elevating  his  own  race. 


3i 


u-Sttj 


.#.v 


t  ■ 


SITTING  BULL'S   FIRST  VISIT  TO 
/  ,  CIVILIZATION. 

STRANGE  events  transpire  in  all  phases  of  life, 
In  the  eternal  revolution  of  the  wheel  of  time, 
even  the  lion  and  the  lamb  will  lie  down  together,  and 
the  day  is  rapidly  approaching  when  Barbarism-  and 
Civilization  will  shake  hands  over  a  common  cause,  a 
,  common  destiny,  a  common  country.    A  few  years  ago, 
and, the  great  Indian  war  chief,  Sitting  Bull,  was  the 
unrelenting,  .implacable    enemy  of  the  whites.      He 
turned  his  back  upon  civilization ;  scorned  all  overtures^ 
for  peace,  except  in  onfe,  instance,  and  feeling  that  he 
'h'a<^  bee|iWFbnged,  he  marshaled  his  fouces  and  cpm- 
batted  every  opposing  power.     He  was  "an  untutored 
child  of  nature ;  honestly  believed  that  the  whites-'had 
wronged  him,  and  in  some  respects  they  had,  and  thus 
feeling,  he  expected  to  live  and  to  die,  as  it  were,  an 
outlaw,     rie  was  moving  with  his  warriors  toward  the 
Canadian  line,  where  he  intended  to  live  the  remainder 
of  his  days,  when,  of  a  sudden,  he  was  attacked  by 
Custer,  and   in   the  engagement  that  followed,  not  a 
white  soldier  of  over  thi-ee  hundred  was  left  to  tell  the 
story  of  that  dreadful  battle.     H5  crossed  the  line.    Ne- 
gotiations followed.     Efforts  were  made  to  bring  Sit- 
ting Bull  within  the  power  of  the  United  States.     He  re- 
fused to  come,  and  remained  on  Canadian  soil  until  his 
leading  chiefs  consented  to  surrender,  and  after  many 
•of  them  had  done  so.  he  finally  yielded 


f         the  American  lines.    Only  on  one  occasion  besides  this 


ii^&Ji^^Ui^^ 


iSVit  ^it-..     <^«7    . 


i 


SITTING  JILL'S  VISIT  TO  CmUZATION.        lAX 

did  Sitting  Bull  assent  to  be  a  representative  to  a  treaty 
With  the  whites,  and  that  was  about' the  country  includ- 
ing the  Black  Hills,  and  as  this  treaty  was  not  respected 
of  course  he  felt  indignant,  and  continued  to  feel  in' 
dignant  until  his  surrender  to  the  United  States  forces, 
as  narrated  in  these  pages. '  At  the  council  held  by  the 
gopd  Father  De  Smet,  Sitting  Bull  came  forward  and 
said:  ^ 

SPEECH  OF  SITTING  BULL. 
"  F4ther,,you  pray  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  us,  and  I 
thank  you.     I  will  and  I  have  often  besought  the  kind- 
ness  of  the  Great  Spirit,  but  never  have  I  done  so  niore 
earnestly  than  to-day,  that  our  words  may  b^  heard 
above  and  to  all  quarters  of  the  earth.    When  I  first 
saw  you  coming,  I  had  evil  thoughts  and  my  heart 
beat,  caused  by  the  remembrance  of  the  past.     But  I 
bade  it  be  still,  and  it  was  so;    when  I  shook  ^ands 
with  you,  my  comrade,,  and  my  sister,  in  the  prairie,  I 
felt  a  change  and  hardly  knew  what  to  say,  but  my 
heart  was  glad  and  quickly  formed  a  decision.     I-  am 
and  I  have  always  heen  a  fool  and  a  warrior.    My  peo- 
ple caused  me  to  be  so. .  They  have  been  confused  aiid 
troubled  for  several  years  past^nd  they  look  upon 
their  troubles  as  coming  from  tl«|»hites,  and  became 
crazy  as  it  were  and  pushed  me  foWard.     I  have  led 
them  for  the  past  four  years  in  bad  deeds.    The  fault 
IS  their's  as  much  as  mine.     I  will  now  say  in  their 
hearing,  welcome,  father,  messenger  of  peace,  and  I 
hope  quiet  and  more  to  our  country.     As  I  am  not  full 
of  words,  I  will  now  thank  ycju-hi  the  presence  of  our 
^!^!^/^_^"^  ^^^y^f  ^^^^  y^"^  kindness,  and  I  accept  the 


.        .   trustTrig  That  you  will 
always  continue  to  wish  us  well.    I  have  now  told  you 


-/,  ^  ■ 


v»r 


,  ♦^7.''  ^^-i-'jff- 


^<j^f 


SITTING  bull's  FIRST  VISIT 


194 


all,  and  all  is  said  that  can  be  said.  Some  of  my  peo- 
|ile  will  return  with  you  to  meet  the  chiefs  of  our  great 
father,  Who  are  sent  to  make  T)eace.  I  hope  it  will  be 
^I  accomplished  and  whatever  is  done  by  them  I  will 
accept  and  remain  ever  a  friend  |o  the  whites." 
'  After  shaking  hands  with  us  ^11  he  turned  to  the 
crowd  and  asked  them  if  they  had  heard  his  words. 
"How!  how!"  ran  through  the  crowd.  A  moment 
after  he  returned  and  said  he  had  forgotten  three 
things.    He  wished  all  to  know  that  he  did  not  pro- 

0  pose  to  sell  any  part  of  his  country,  nor  did  he  wish 
the  whites  to  cut  his  timber  along  the  Missouri,' and 
especially  the  oaks.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  look- 
ing  at  the  littjle  groves  of  oaks  and  had  a  reverence  ior 
them.  They  had  withstood  the  wintry  storms  and 
summer  blasts  and,  not  unlike  themselves,  seemed  to 
flourish  by  them.  His  last  request  was  that  the  forts, 
peopled  with  soldiers,  should  be  abandoned,  as  there 

;  was  no  greater  source  of  grievance  to  his  people.  With 
^plause  from  young  and  old  he  took  his  seat. 

SITTING  BULL  IN  SAINT  PAUL,  MINNESOTA. 

The  person  'who  conceived  •  the  excellent  idea  of 
introducing  Sitting  Bull  for  the  first  time  to  civiliza- 
tion, was  Major  James  McLaughlin,  Jndian  agent  at 
Standing  Rock,  and  in  this  conception  he  carried  out  a 
-l)old  idea,  the  results  of  which  will  prove  greatly  bene-, 
ficial  to  the  Indian  tribes  over  which  Sitting  Bull  has 
an  influence.  •  Like  the  old  Roman  soldier,  Bull  could 
say-^^veni,  vidi,  vici'*-^"  I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered— 
not  armies  of  men ;  not  a  chieftain  pf  the  Great  Father, 
^r  a  foe  of  niy  own  racej^  t)u^  I  conquered  my  own 


prejiidices  and  the  prejudices  of  the  white  people,  and 


JB^Jt  . 


-'  jai.   ii^yiMA  III  i"'ii  iiiii[ijTlir"i  I  '1^ 


Ta  CIVILIZATION. 


J95 


saw— not  emblems  of  war,  or  revenge,  or  blopd^br  car^ 
■  nage,  but  evidences  of  peace,  of  harmony,  of  industry,  ^ 
commerce,  schools,  churches,  kindness,  friends,  civih*^a^^ 
tion.     I  came  among  a  pe.ople  who  had  been  taught  to 
beliejfe  that  I  was  the  most^brutal  savage  on  the  f^gs   \ 
of  the  earth,  and  I  must  confess  I  felt  for  a  moment 
uneasy  as"  to  my  personal  safety,  but  the  great  heart  of 
the  paleface  made  my  own  )ieart  quiet  and  grateful  for 
its  generosity  and  magnanimity,  and  I  went  back  tolny ' 
people  deeply  impressed  with  the  vastness  of  the  white    - 
race  and  the  power  of  civilization^"    Such  was  the 
feeling  of  this  great  uncivilized  warrior  after  fie  had 
seen  civilization  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  on 
returning  to  Standing  Rock,  where  his   people  are 
gathered,  he  gave  them  such  a  glowing  account  of  what  ^ 
he  had  seen,  that  a  number  of  the  chiefs  \(rould  not 
believe  him,  and  others  have  become  so  deeply  inter-, 
ested  in  the  elevation  of  their  race  that  they  haye  sig-^ 
nified  their "  desires  to  abandon  barbarism  and  adopt 
the  modes  and  the  habits  of  the  whites.    So  much  for 
Sitting  Bull's  visit. .  -    ' 

«  ■■  I     • 

WHEN  AND  WHERE  BORN— ORIGIN  OF  NAME.  ' 

Ta-ton-ka-i-g-o-ton-ka,  or  Sitting  Bull,  was  bom.  in  > 
^^34,  <^the  banks  of  the  Grand  riv#r,  Within  the  ' 
bounds^  of  the  present  Great  Sioux  Reservation, 
near  theinouth  of  Stonewall  creek,  and  about  forty-five 
mijes  southwest  from  Standing  Rock  Agency  in  Dakota 
Territory.  He  states  that  he  was  born  in  the  spring 
and  is  now  in  his  fiftieth  year,  but  he  looks  much  older. 
His  sister,  however,  who  is  six  years  his  senior  corrob- 


J9=4h5^ 


and  says^That ire  wal^BofrTTSly" 
winters  ago,  or  in  the  spring  of  1834.    He  was  fi^t 


«!■ 


"W 


4r   J^ 


L.i3i^  ^  t\ 


196 


SITTING  Ball's  first  visit 


'.i^r 


named   "  Wakan-yoo-najin,"  — Standing   ^ply,  which' 
name  heretaijied  until  he  was 'fourteen  years  old,  wEen 
^  his  father,  whose  name  was  Sitting  Bull,  took  him 
along  with  him  on  the  waripath  into  the  Crow  country 
'  (the  inveterate  enemies, of  the  Sioux),  and'he,  the 
fourteen  year  old  boy,  counted  his  first  coup  or  victory, 
by  killing  a  Grow  Jndian.    After  returning  t'o-theii^ 
home,  his  father  threw  away  three  ppnies  in  h&nor  of 
his  brave  son's.achievement,  at  the  same  tin?e  announc- 
'  ing  that  he  had  changed  the  name- of  his  son  from 
Standing  Holy  to  that  of  Setting  Bulkjiestowing  his^ 
own  name  upon  him.     His  father  was  subsequently 
killed  by  the  Crows  near  the  forks  of  Grand  river. 

In  person  Sitting  Bull  is  a  sqlidl^-built  Indian',  not 
quite  so  tall  as  an  ordinary  savage,  yet  heavier  in  mahy 
respects.    His  features  are  strong,  and;  when  he  walks, 
he  turns  his  toes  inward,  strikes  the  ground  with  a 
heav)C  jarring  tread,  and  nioves  along  rapidly,  like  a 
man  of  business.     His  general  look  is  heavy,  while 
that  of   Little  Crow,  the  leader  of  the  great  Indian 
outbreak,  and    Hole-in-the-Day,   the  great  Chippewa  ~ 
:  chief,  were  more  refined,  but,  none  the  less,  true  In- 
dians;    .The  Dakotas  believe 'that  th^  must  imitate 
their  Hay-o-kah,  or  undemonstrative  god,  who  incul- 
cat^s  the  idea  iJiat  it  \s  not  dignified,  nor  manly,  nor 
great  to  evince  lively  emotions  of  grief"  or  joyy  tut, 
under  all  circulmstanceg,  •  even  of   torture  and   death 
itself,  the  Indian  must  ^show  a  stoical,  impassive  face, 
and,  hence,  the  immovable  features  of  sitting  Bull,  of 
any  other  Indian  who  lays  claim  to  power  among  his 
^ tribe.     It  is  alleged  that  Bull  is  not  so  able  a  man  in 


N 


- ' intGii^^t^^aS'  Crttulf  Antelope,  and~( 


'Tie~Ts  vely^ 


;^,'  selfrwilled,  one  might  say  obstinate,  and  here  is  where 


&.^i^^i»^v^ .^ , 


T©  CIVILIZATION. 


}xW 


h^  gets  his  strength Vd  his  fame.    And  y.tt  this  very, 
stubbornness  of  character  hag  made  him  a  name  second 
to  n6  other  chief  in -Indian  history,  as  the  sameelemerit 
of  character  made  Grant  the  greatest  warrior  of  mod- 
ern times.  '  ,  »' 

Major  Mc;,Laughlin  and  his  two  little  sons  (one  acting 
as  interpreter),  with  Sitting  BuH,  One  BuU' and  others- 
arrived  at  St.  Paul,  Minnesota,  on  March  14,  1884,  and 
in  consequence  of  the  great  crowd  at^  the  depot,  gath- 
ere,d  |o  s^e  the  famous  Unkapapa,' h»  took  a  hack  to 
one  of  our?princii)al  hotels.'  That  evening  was  sdgi^ 
by  the  chief  ini-ejiamiriing  type  *  setting,  newsp^er" 
making,  telegraphing,  telephoning,  steam:heating,  etc., 
in^fhich  he  took  great  interest.-.  The  nexl&ay  he  inves- 
tigated several  grocery  and  commission  houses,  saw  the 
process  of  coffee  roasting  and  grinding,^nd  foi-the  first  ^^< 

'  time  rode  in  an  e%ator.  The  next  day  he  .called  .on 
Bishop  Grace^  and  talked  for.sonie'tim^  in  his  own  " 
tongue,  with  Father  Ravoux ;  passed  through  thexathe- "- 
'  df al,  and  the  AsSumption  Catholic  phurches ;  visited  the 
State  capitoj;  examined  the  portraits  o^  the  gov^-nors ; 
said  of  General  Sibley,  "  Had  hoped  to  meet  him,  and 
was  sorry  that'  he  myst  return  Without  seeing  him,  as 

/-  he  was  the  true  friend  of  the  Indian  race,  and  trusted' 
that  the  trip  South:  would  brjflgliim  back  strong  dml 
healthy  again."  .     --         /  .       .  ^  y^  ' 

^  He  then  rode  through  the  city  and  saw  its  fiiit^resi- 
dences  and  bushiess  blocks;  rettrrned  to  the  hotel,  and 
pn  Sunday  morning  attended  mass  at  the  ^Assiimptiof^- 
church;  later,' saw  the  action  of  the  fire  department, 
and  was  so  pleased  with  its  workings  that -the  perform- 
repeated  l-ortol^enefit;  he  toaching 


trie  si 


i^al  for  tl^e  call.,  ^e  ,then,  on  in vitatioi^ visited 


"'-^i       >- 


-iC.,-^ 


^'S«,.Jji*. 


108 


SltrmG  IVLL'S  FIRST  VISIT 


T 


J  one  of  the  largest  cigar  factories  in  the  city,  and  after 
witnessing  the  process  of  manufacturing  the  article, 
was  presented  with  two  twelve-inch  cigars,  made  in  his 
presence;  went  through  the  public  schools ;  saw  i,ooo 
pupils  issue  from  one  building  in  two' minutes  after  the 
fire  alarm  had  been  given ;    strolled  through  a  large 
, millinery  establishment]  opened  his  eyes  vejy  wide 
when  inside  of  a  wholesale  boot  and  shoe  manufactur- 
ing establishment,  especially  when   his  measure'  was 
taken  and  he  had  a  complete  pair  of  shoes  made  and\ 
handed  to  him, in, twenty  minutes  after  the  leather  had  V, 
passed  yito  the  hands  6f>the  first  workman.     He  fol- 
lowed the  process  all  through,  and  was  more  astonished 
at  this,  than  at  anything  that  he  had  seen  that  day^ 
He  has  not  worn  the  shoes  yet,  but  keeps  them  to  show 
.  and  explain  to  his  visitors  how  they  are  made. 

He  became. an  Irishman  on  St.  Patrick's- day,  and 
attended  an  entertainment  in  the  evening  and  nfadc  a 
speechj  spent  several  hours  in  a  wholesale  dry  goods 
house;  saw  a  pair  of  pants  made  in  two  minutes;  ex-  * 
tended  his  visit  to  Fort  Snelling;  dined  with  his  old 
antagonist,  General  Terry;  graced  the  Grand  Opera 
house  with  his  presence ;  was  delighted  with  the  play, 
and  especially  when  the  actors  took  off  their, wigs; 
"went  through"  one  of  the  principal  banks;  took  in 
his  hands  a  Jaarcel  containing  $40o,o®o  in  United  States 
bonds,  and,  being  uncivilized,  he  carefully,  handed  it 
back;  shuffled  through  the  post-offlce ;  saw' the  mails, 
and  some  of  the  females;  made  for  the  railway  offices ; 
attended  another  theater  in  the  evening;  sat  for  his 
?^?*"'n-  ^^^^^^^°"  friends  of  his  benefactor.  Major  Mc- 


lade  a  tour  of  the  mTITs  at  MinneapoUs; 
saw  the  city,  and  took  the  train  for  homfc  that  evening, 


TO  CIVILIZATION, 


w 


having  been  fourteen  days  from  the  agency/ which  was 
acknowledged  by  Sitting  Bull  to  be  the  most  pleas^t 
anil  beneficially  spent  of  any  days  of  his  life. 

THE  MOTIVE  FOR  VISITING  CIVILIZATION. 

We  learn  from  Indian  Agent  McLaughlin,  that  the 
object  in  inducing'Sitting  Bull  and  his  npphew  to  visit 
St.  Paul,  was  to  show  them  the  greatness  and  the 
fSqwer  of  the  whites ;  to  see  how  they  live ;  the  many 
comforts  they  enjoy,  and  to  impress  upon  them  the  im- 
portance of^  the  introduction  of  industrious  habits 
among  the  Indians  and  the  education  of  their  children, 
and  great  p^s  were  taken  to  explain  to  them  thai  all 
thfe  comfor|Bhe  whites  enjoyed,  and  every  r on venience 
they  had,  cost  labor  and  thought,  and  thus  seeing  all 
this;  it  was  suggested,  would  be  moVe  convincing  than 
years  of  theoretical  education,  and  this  was  deemed  es- 
pecially important  in  the  case  of  Sitting  Bull.  It  has 
turned  out  as  was  expected.  His  eyes  have  been 
opened  by  his  recent  visit  .to  civilization,  |pd  it4s  ex- 
hibiting itself  in  many  ways  since  his  return.  He  is 
now  more  ready  to  believe  what  he  is  told  him  about 
the  whites  than  formerly.  As  a  great  leader  his  influ- 
ence is  now  somewhat  limited,  and  his  followers  are  of 
the  most  unenlightened  class.  Whatever  power  he  has, 
however,  is  being  turned  in  the  right  direction,  and  his 
recent  trip  to  the  marts  of  civilization  has  been  largely 
instrumental  in  twinging  this  about.  He  never  tires  of 
talking  of  what  lie  saw  and  the  kind  treatment  he  re- 
ceived from  all  whom  he  met,  and  no  fears  need  now 
be  entertained  of  any  further  trouble   from  hlm^  or 


through  him  among  the  Sioux.     And  thus  we  close  an 
interesting  chapter  of  an  interesting  chief  of  an  intcr- 


•\  . 


200        WTTING  BULL'S  VISIT  TO  CIVILIZATION. 

esting  people  wha  are  gradually  emerging  out  of  bar- 
barism into  the  full  glare  of  civilization,  and  we  trust 
and  we  have  reason  to  hope,  that  this  little  volume  ha^ 
had  something  to  do  toward  the  consummation  of  so 
desirable  an  end. 


1 1 


'    *^' 


m.' 


"^^  ^ 


JHI>'. 


^•1. 


AN  INTERESTING  TRfP. 


WHERE  NO  WHITE  MAN   HAD  EVER   BEEN  BEFORE. 

IN  the  year  1865,  when  on  the  north  boundary-  line 
of  the  United  States,  1  met  an  Indian  who  at- 
tached hin^self  to  me  as  my  necarnis,  or  best  friend,  and 
who  desired  that  I  should  go  with  him  some  forty  miles 
from  that  point,  to  examine  what  he  claimed  was  a  bed 
of  coal;  so,  asking  him  how  much,  and  receiving  the 
reply,  >' $50,"  I  consented  to  give  it,  and  began  prepa- 
rations for  the  journey.     It  was  winter,  and  Vermilion 
lake  was  frozen  over,  so  that  my  "shebang,"  as  I  called 
it,  consisting  of  a  horse  and  covered  sled,  could  easily 
make  the  trip.    The  Indian  was  to  meet  me  some  dis- 
tance from  the  camp,  so  as  not  to  excite  the  suspicion 
of  our  exploring  party,  and  in  the  morning,  bright  and 
early,  myself  and  Porter,  the  interpreter,  started  but, 
and  soon  Nar-go-ba-da  was  seen  in  the  distance,  await- 
ing our  coming.     Indian-like,  he  wanted  a  gallon  of 
"  scoot-arwa-boo,"  or  whisky,  before  he  would  budge 
an  inch.    I  positively  declined  to  give  him  thi^  but  1 
told  him  that  I  would  give  him  a  drink  then,  and  as 
the  fatigue  of  the  journey  increased,  he  should  have 
more ;  so,  satisfied,  he  gave  the  lead,  and  we  followed. 
It  was  a  crisp,  bright,  sharp  winter  morning,  and  the 
wide  expanse  of  the  frozen  lake  stretched  out  before 
us.    Nar-go-ba-da  loomed  up  ahead ;  I  followed ;  Porter 
was  behind.    When  about  eight  ftiiles  from  our  point 
of  departure,  I  was  startled  with  the  vision  hjgh in d  me 


of  a  large  body  of  men  and  horses  following  our  trail, 
and  the  more  I  looked  the  more  distinct  they  became 


£L*A1%  ^£  -i;^  L. 


T:    i/^L. 


202 


AN  INTERESTING  TRIP. 


pit. 


"Porter!  for  heaven's  sake,"  I  asked,  "what  i&  the 
meaning  of  that -body  of  men  and  horses  behind  us?  I 
thoirght  we  were  alone  on  the  lake.  Look!"  Porter 
looked;  the  Indian  looked;  I  looked:  there  the  men 
and  horses  were,  just  as  I  had  described  them,  but  I 
could  see  a  smile  play  over  the  features  of  the  Indian 
and  Porter,  while  on  my  own  were  evidences  of  sur- 
prise. 

"  Who  are  you!  where  are  they  going?"  I  asked  eagerly. 
By  this  time  Porter  had  come  up,  and  Nar-go-ba-da  had 
returned  from  the  advance,  ahd  as  we  were  then  all 
looJ<ing  at  them  I  observed  that  the  immense  regiment 
as  it  were,  halted,  and  when  Porter,  with  his  lame  leg, 
moved,  I  saw  'one  of  their  men  with  a  lame  leg  move 
also,  and  then  I  began,  as  the  boy  did—"  to  smell  a 
mice,"  but  what  this  strange  vision  was  I  could  not  yet 
comprehend.  "  Well,"  said  Porter,  "  Maria."  "What 
do  you  mean  by  that?"  I  asked.  "A  grand  display  of 
our  own  persons-  and  horse  niultiplied  into  hundreds ;  a 
reflection  of  ourselves,  produced  by  the  peculiar  con- 
dition of  the  atmosphere."  Can  it  be  possible  that  I 
had  been  thus  deceived?  Yes,  when  we  moved,  they 
moved,  and  what  was  more  convincing  to  me,  was  the 
fact  of  Porter's  game  leg,  for  one  of  the  other  party' 
was  in  the  same  fix. 

These  delusions  occur  quite  frequently  on  this  lake, 
especially  on  a  frosty  morning.  Some  parties  have  been 
absolutely  frightened  by  seeing  others  following  them, 
and  have  started  out  on  a  run — of  course  the  others 
after  them — and  have  not  stopped  until  they  have 
reached  their  camp,  and  then  they  have  turned  to  find 


nothing^ut  their  own  shadows. 
Quiet  and  order  being  somewhat  restored  in  our/ranks 


i.«-ii 


Nar-go-J)a-da  tdo'*^  th%,  lead,  and  onp-vre  spedi  o^he^  the 
slight  sbow  which  covered  the  lake.  Snddenly  our  In 
dian  came  to  a  halt,  and  I  with  him,  and  here  we  found 
a  circle  ms^de  in  the  snow,  and  at  a  given  point  in  thatf 
circle  was  a  mark,  indicating  at  wha^t  time  and  ^vhich 
way  a  partyX^f  trappers  had  passed  that  morning, 
clearly  showingNthe  sagacity  of  the  Indian  in  not  only 
telling  time,  b^t  also  in  indicating  the  points  of  the 
compass.  Our,  line  of  march  was  as  follows :  the  Indian 
first,  myself;  Artd  horse  next.  Porter  last.  The  snow 
was  deep,  s6  we  had  to  keep  in  the  beaten  track  of  the 
trappers,  and  thus,  in  the  order  named,  we  pushed 
on.  Presently  wp  heard  a  loud  yell  from  Nar-go-ba-da. 
I  thought  a  thousand  Indians  were  on  my  path,  and 
requWed  Porter  to  hurry  up,  and  we  together  ap- 
proached the  Indian,  who,  we  found,  had  discovered  the 
hunting  ground  of  his  friends,  ^nd  there  lay  before  us 
a  huge  l^nx,  with  a  rope  around  his  neck  and  the  other 
end"  attached  to  a  long  limb  of  a  tree. 
^  The  Irtjdian's  primitive  mode  of  trapping  is  interest- 
ing, especially  when  the  snow  is  deep.  He  first  pass  _ 
over  the  j^rack  of  the  animal  on  snow  shoes.  That 
night  this  track. freezes.  He  ^hen  gathers  small  sticks, 
as  an  Irish  woman  would  make  a  hen  yard;  these  sticks 
he  places  across  the  track  a  foot  or  two  out  from  it  on 
either  side,  leaving  in  the  middle  and  directly  where 
the  snow  is  hard  a  small  aperture,  and  in;  this  aperture 
is  hung  a  slipping-noose  of  fine  but  very  strong  twine, 
the  other  end  tied  to  a  limb  of  a  tree.  Now,  irt  the 
morning  the  lynx  come^  out  for  his  breakfast ;  he  trots 
along  down  the  hardened  track ;  he  snulfe^ 


evening  meal ;  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  comes  to  the 
little  sticks  in  his  path;  they  look  natural  enough;  he 


-.  „  --  ^ 


204 

'      It 


I 

AK  INTERESTINqi  TRIP. 


puts  his  paw  to  one  side;  it  sin^ts  in  the  snow;  he  tries 
the  other  sii^e,  that  sinks ;  *he  hesitates ;  when  he  sees  a 
small  opening  and  a  fine  string  |iangfing  therein,  he  tries, 
the  snow  on  either  si^e  of  the  path  again  ;  it  is  too  deep ; 
he  makes  a  plunge  into  the  opening,  is  caught  by  the  slip- 
ping-noose  around  his  ne(^k;  he  pulls,  he  struggles,  he 
growls,  he  bites,  and  the  harder  he  pulls  the  tighter 
grows  the  string  around  his  neck  until  the  fellow  is 
dead.    The  animal   before   us  was  a  large,   splendid 
creature,  with  huge  limbs^  of  immense  power,  a  small, 
round  head,  and  covered  with  a  beautiful  garment  of 
winter.    This  mode  of  trapping  keeps  the  fur  in  a  fine 
condition;   unpolluted    by  poison   and   uninjured   by 
bullets.     My  necarnis  was  d^ighted  with  the  "  find," 
and  so  on  again  we  pushe^  in  our  journey. 

We  had  been  traveling  about  an  hour,  when  again  I 
heard  the  Indian  scream  more  terribly  than  ever  before, 
and  this  time  I  drew  my  revolver  and  called  to  him  to 
halt,  as  at  the  time  he  was  approaching  me,  and  he 
halted,  and  I  halted,  and  there  we  stood  looking  at 
each  other  until   Porter  came  up,  when   the   Indian 
broke  out  in  the  most  excited  gibberish,  the  tenor  of 
which  was,  that  he  had   suddenly  approached   Spirit 
Island,  where  he  saw  a  large  ox  and  \  horse  appear, 
and   he  was  greatly  alarmed.     He  had  heard  of  this 
place  but  he,  had  never  before  seen  it,  and  even  while 
he  spoke,  he  pointed  to  the  island,  and  insisted  that 
the  animals  were  there,  he  could  see  them,  but  we 
CQuld  discover  none.    The  fevered   condition  of  his 
mind,  or  of  his  imagination,  had  much  to  do  in  making 
it  appear  to  him  real,  when  to  us,  it  was  only  a  myth. 
Aml^  yet,  Porter  3ays  it  is  the  universal  beTTeroTthe 
Indians,  especially  the  Brules  in  this  section,  that  spir- 


AN  INTERESTING  TRIP. 


'205 


'if- 


its  of  Indians,  horses,  ponies,  oxen,  etc.,  inhabit  thb 
island. 

This  second  scare  over,  we  again  took  up  our  line 
of  march,  and, Just  at  sundown,  struck  ^he  borders  of 
an  island,  some  thirty-five  miles  from  whence  we  had 
come.     Here  a  small  camp-fire  was  made  on  th^  island, 
our  supper  cooked,  and  early  I  turned  into  jny  covered 
sled,  some  three  hundred  feet  from  where  the  Indian 
and  Porter  lay.    In  my  sled  I  had  a  Henry  rifle  and 
two  revolvers,  and  felt  pretty  safe;  and  yet  I  did  not 
like  to  be  so  far  from  my  friends,    I  looked  out  into 
the  night;  the  moon  was  sljining  brightly;  and  then, 
fastening. down  the  covers  of  my  "shebang,"  I  gath- 
ered  the  clothes  about  xnpr^igd  was  soon  in  a  sweet 
sleep.    Abput  midnight  I  wds  awakened  by  a  noise 
near  the  sled.    To  me  it  seemed   like  the  tread  of 
Indians,  and  I  knew,  that  if  this^was  the  case,  there  was 
no  hope  for  me,  for  they  were  there  for  a  bad  purpose; 
so  I  lay  \Ath  my  finger  upon  the  trigger  of  my  Henry 
rifle,  when  presently  something  poked  its  nose  under 
the  cover,  and  I  saw  at  once  I  was  surrounded  by  four 
or  five  lynxes,  which  had  been  attracted  to  my  sled  by 
the  smell  of  provisions.    Should  I  fire?    No!    That 
would  Infuriate  the  pack,  and  they  would  pounce  upon 
me  in  a  minute;  so  I  carefully  guarded  every  loose 
place,  determined  that,  if  they  should  commence  to 
tear  the  covering,  I  would  titen  do  my  l^st ;  and  thus 
I  lay,  until  the  wee  hours  of  morning,  listening  to 
their  walking  about   my  bed,  and   growling  at  each 
other.     It  certainly  was  not  a  very  pleasant  place  to  be  ^ 
Jnijm<LXMv:e^  faint  recolfections^xtf  being^just  a  little- 
frightened.  . 

In  the  morning  I  discovered  thc^racks  of  six  animals, 


*j*5 


^nlpiiipilliiliiiliiilii^^ 


■ilip' 


206 


AN  INTERESTING  TRIP. 


and  my  necarnis,  or  best  Indian  friend,  was  ^nsider- 
ably  exercised  over  the  danger  I  had  been  in.    After  a 
frugal  breakfast,  as  the  thermometer  was  thirty  degrees 
below  zero,  we  mpved  (Jut  to  the  place  where  no  white 
man  had  ever  trod  before,  but  the  Indian  had  been  de- 
ceived; there  was  no  coal  there,  so  rather  sedately  we 
trudged  along  home.    About  noon  we  saw  in  the  dis- 
'tance  a  group  of  Indians  hurriedly  making  towards  us, 
and  as  we  were  then  on  Indian  ground  we  apprehended 
a  snaall  bit  of  danger,  but  in  what  shape  it  would  come 
we  did  not  know.     "  Hoist  the  American  flag,"  I  said  to 
Porter,  and  he  threw  its  waving  folds  over  the  sled,  and 
we  moved  slo^yly  along.  Up  came  the  Indians  as  though 
they  would  eat  us  all  up,  but  we  didn't  scare  worth  a 
cCTit,  as  they  soon  saw.    After  rudely  pushing  things, 
about,  they  concluded  to  divest  us  of  our  provisions, 
but  Nor-go-ba-da,  my  best  friend,  simply  put  his  finger 
on  the  trigger  of  his  gUn  and  told  them  that  the  Ameri, 
can  flag  shielded  us  from  all  harm,  besides  which  I  was 
his  friend,  and  nobody  must  injure  a  hair  of  my  head. 
The  Indians  swung  their  guns  from  their  backs,  and  in 
a  moment  more  I  expected  death,  but  Nor-go-ba-da 
cooly  remarked,  "  I  have  a  spirit  gun  bsre  which  shoots 
eighteen  times  in  a  minute;  let  any  Wn  mofest  my 
schersmokerman  (white  man  chief)  and  he  dies."    The 
Indians  grunted,  looked  sullen,  and  went  on  their  way. 
Just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  to  rest,  we  wound  into  a 
little  bay  or  inlet,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  were  in 
the  home  of  out  Indian  friend.     The  post  of  honor  was 
given  me,  opposite  the  opening  of  the  tepee— the  best 
robe  had  been  spread  for  my  comfort ;  the  women  were 
^udiljrparnTedr^iTdlhe  pot  was  on  the  fire  Iwillh^. 


was  on  tne 
My  friend  was  on  the  right ;  my  interpreter  just  back 


FT 


^p.'-fl 


AJyi  INTERESTING  TRIF. 


207 


of  me,  two  quite  comely  women  with  their  children,  on^ " 
-"•"-tlrr  left,  and  an  old  woman,  the  grandmother,  and  a 
young  girl  of  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  in  front 
of  us. 

Soon  after  our  entrance  one  of  the  women  got  up, 
left  the  tepee,  refturned  with  a  big  fish,  unsealed  and 
undressed,  put  it  into  the  pot,  stirred  it  up;  no  salt, 
no  seasoning,  except  the  dirt  on  it,  to  make  it  palata- 
ble, w    '  '    ■      ■        -^  ' 

"  Good  heavens !  Porter,"  I  said,  "  do  they  intend  me 
to  eat  this  dish?" 

"Of  course  they  do,"  he  remarked.   - 

"  What,  with  the  scales  on  and  undressed?  " 

I  simply  ejaculated — "  Lord,"  and  awaited  events. 
True  enough,  the  head  of  the  fish  was  presented  to 
me  as  a  mark  of  honor ;  and  forgetting  all  my  friends 
and  all  the  past,  and  everything  good,  I  had  ever 
tasted  in  life,  I  gave  one  gulp  and  down  went  the 
fish's  head  to  my  great  satisfaction.  I  felt  like  an 
immense  -chief,  having  accomplished  so  great  a  deed. 
But  other  pieces  of  the  fish  came  along,  and  having 
bravely  done  the  honor  of  my  station  and  won  the 
kind  regard  of  my  Indian  friend,  we  exchanged  bushu- 
nechees,  or  good-byes,  and  Porter  and  myself  went  out 
on  to  the  broad  lake,  and  into  the  pure  night,  and  in 
the  shimmering  rays  of  the  full  moon  wended  our  way 
to  our  camp  on  Vermilion  lake,  where  the  boys  were 
rejoiced  to  see  us,  and  where  we  were  glad  to  clasp 
many  friendly  hands,  having  had  a  somewhat  tedious  • 
but  an  exceedingly  interesting  trip.. 


■  ■  > 


■i't 


A  GENUINE. INDIAN  SCARE,  r 

IT  WAS  a  bright  morning   in    June,  1863,  warm,' 
sultry,  with  nature  dressed  in  her  loveliest  attire     -■■ 
when  tlie  commandbr  of  Camp  Pope—no.w  a  member 
of  congress--and  all  his  subordinate  officers  retired  to     . 
the  river  near  by  to  bathe  their  limbs  in  the  limpid 
water,  and  to  fulfill  the  injunction  of  the  scriptures—     ' 
"wash  and  be  cleaned."    Coney  Island,  N.  Y.,  could     * 
not  have  presented  a  more  animated  scene  than  this, 
with  officers  and  men  disporting  in  the  stream,  all  aliv^ 
with  animation  and  fun.    The  quartermaster  of  the     V 
post  with  some  six  of  his  clerks  were  there,  while'a      ^ 
small  guard  was  left  at  the  stockade  to  give  warning  in 
case  of  danger.    One  can  realize  the  supreme  happiness 
of  the  moment  when  he  comes  to  consider  that  these 
men  had  been  cooped  up  in  their  temporary  barracks 
for  a  long  time,  and  were  tired,- and  weary,- and  dirt^, 
aod  now  the  "  sounding  aisles  of  the  dim  woods  rang 
to  the  anthems  of  the  free,"  as  they  laughed  and  ' 
sported  in  the  warm  water  that  enveloped  their  nude     ; 
forms.    Across  the  river  was  a  dense  forest  of  trees,  and     '/ 
up  the  river  on  this  side,  where  the  camp  was  locat^     ^ 
was  a  rise^^of  ground  gradually    ascending    until  it 
reached  the  buildings  of  the  soldiers^  rendezvous,    (^n 
went  the  sport ;  some  had  completed  washing  thor- 
oughly, while  others  had  half  of  their  >odies  cleaned, 
arid  resembled  tattooed  men  in  dime  museums,  when,  all 


■QBHj-  Lj^~i\:tick'i' 


sed,  wlio  RadTiT 


charge  the  families  of  our  friendly  scoring  fndians, 


M» 


r^ 


lli&^SSSt^L^ 


A  Genuine:  Indian  scar^. 


^0^ 


located  a  mile  or  two  out,  was  seen  on  a  pony,  dashing 
furiously  toward  us,  and  as  he  approached  we  observ^ed^ 
his  hat  and  shoes  were  gone,  his  shirt  bosom  was  dfcen. 
andOii^ir  was  flyjng  in  the  wirid.  Down  the  hill  he  came 
like  a  Wirlwind;  and  addressing  the  commander  (then 
m  they£ter)iif  a  loud^oice  and  it!  an  excited  manner 
exclaimed,  "Indiahs  coming!    Indians  coming!*''^  As  '' 
Le  Rock  washimself  half  Indian  oLcourse  we  h^d  every 
^reason  to  believe  that  his  statemerlt  was  true,  and  as' 
the    Indians  were  about  to  make  their^ittack  in  the 
broad  glare  of  day,  we  could  arrive  at  no  other  cin.*  * 
elusion  than  that  they  were <^n  We  force,  and  hence  ) 
t^he^mpedeof  our  wafer  nymphs  wS^f  the  most  amus- 
ing  character.    One  of  the  writer's  derks  seized   his   ' 
clothing,'  and  only  partially  washed  and  entirdy  naked    . 
tripped  it^up  the  hill  at  the  rate  of  a:40,  whil^  others, 
fearing  a  fire  from  the  woods  opposit?*,  crept  behind 
some  bushes  or  a  few  old  logs -^d  dressed  themselves 
as  well  as  they  could.     Major  S.  and  myself  hurried  to 
the  camp  as  fast  as  possible,  and  while  he  put  the  men 
m  fighting  order  I  mounted  the^  best  horse  I  had  and 
m  company  with  one  of  my  clerks,  galloped  up  the  hill     ' 
to  reconnoitre.    Anotherfnessenger  was  sent  put  on  a 
fleet  horse  to  inform  a  partf  who  had  gone  to. Red 
Wood  falls  to  fish  to  returi)  with  all  possible  speed,  as 
there  was  danger^head.  •  Another  soldier  was  mounted 
ready  to  go  to'.Fort  Ridgely  for  aid  if  it  w^e  deemed 
necessary.     Presently  the  fishirtg  party  came,  in,  their 
animals  on  a  full  gallop ;  the  m^n  had  made  all"  the  de- 
fense they  could  for  the  attack,^  and  we  calmly  awaited 
the  approaching  Indians.     Majnr  c; 


— ; — -VI ^ > ^  was  cvcr>rwhcfc 

animating  the  men,  while  I^  with  my  companion,  was 
mspectmg  the  surrounding  cpuntiywith  a  field-glass  to 


^ 


-^. 


"W" 


~^: 


^W.^tf^Jii^    -o^ 


^mmn 


'  i    J  -"v    Js,  • 


2  to 


mmtm 


A  ^  GENUINE  INDIAN  SCARE. 


m 


«. 


set  If  irc  coojd  discover  the  ehemy.    Riding  back  into 
camp  I  said  to  Major  S.:  ^i/ 

"We  have  scanned  the  counti;^indveryf direction, 
but  we  see  no  Indians."  ,  .        '^f     "'  ' 

*♦  Did  you  look  up  the  valley  ?  *'  inquired  the  major. 

"Yes." 

"  See  any  thing  ? 
.  "  No." 

"Go  out  again;  gain  the  highest  point  yoi^ 
look  carefully,  apd  return  the  instant  you  makc^j^nS 
covery."  '  _^  ^.       I'^^^^ji^' 

Again  we  were  of!,  and  soon  gained  a  hffflf'^11  and 
looking  up  the  valley,  we '  saw  two  men  on  ponies.' 
Could  they  be  Indians?    Let  us  watch  and  see.    The 
glass  showed  that  one  was  Le  Rock,  and  the  other  was 
one  of  our  own  men  whom  Major  S.  had  s^nt  out  to  meet 
Le  Rock,  and;  learn  the  worst.    They  were   talking^'- 
deliberately  to|;ether,  and  then  they  turned  their  horses'^ 
iieads  towari(|)«|fe  and  jogged  leisurely  down  the  valley. 
As  they  approached  we  saw  plainly  enougli  that  Le 
Rock  was  ajl  broken  up.     He  looked  like  a  man  who 
had  passed  through  a  terrible  battle.    -His  dejected  and 
forlorn  expression  would  have  made  an  excellent  pict- 
ure for  an  artist. 

"Well,   Le  Rock,"  I  inquired^  "where  are  those 
horrible  Indians  ? "  ,      ^ 

"Oh,Maj^"  he  replied,  *i||y^ny.   Weterril^J^ 
scared  in  ourmmp ;  womenjm^^&see  Ifll&d^s  com- 
ing^ heap  big  lot;  see  Ihdi JPUP^^IU ;  on  ponies-^- 
sure.    But — but  great  bijg  heap  Indians,  only  hunf rv 
dogis  of  dead  white  people,  chasing  the  game  over  the 


in»n 
r  th« 
h  d© 


"iMls^    Look  just  like  THdians  on  ponies.    Me  much  3©*  ' 
*     ive4.*   Me  sorry."  * 


^^kfi^  ^  .uHib^'MtaJ'  . 


■-i 


A  GEI^UINE  INDIAN  SCARE. 


2Ii 


And  we  four  rode  into  camp,  gave  .the  major  the 

'  news  and  alUaughed  heartily  over  this,  our  first  Indian 

scare.  "       .  ■"^-  ■■      :^  -*    '„*        'T-    /■   . 

In  the  night  We  were  somewhat  alarmed  by  the  yell- 
ing and  firing  6f  guns  by  the  guard  around  our  lodge, 
but  oti  inquiring  we  found  it  was  only  caused  by  a  mul|» 
tryihg  to  kill  a  young  colt,  and  could  not  b^riven  o^^ 
with  clubs,  and  the  guards  had  to  try^dwder  and  lead 
before  it  would  let  loose  its  hold.  At  the  same  moment 
a  woman,  the  owner  of  the  mule,  reached  the  spot  arid, 
finding  they  bad  killed  the  mule,  commenced  a  mourn- 
ful cry,  which  still  more  dlarmed  the  pamp;  and  this 
being  near  pur  .lodges,  everybody  at  x)nce  rushed  to  the 
spot;  but,  on  finding  out  the  trutk,/they  commenced 
laujghing  and  singing,  and  kept  up  their  mirth  till  day- 

light.  \  .  .^       .  :  • 

Everything  was  readjr  at  4:30  a.m.  for  leaving,  and 
on  telling  ofir  landlord  that  w&were  ready  to  start,  he 
at  once  ordered  several  of  his  ydung  men  to  aopompany 
us  as  far  as  Powder  river,  and  he  promised  he  would 
come  up  himself  to  bid  us  farewell,  which  he  did  ;  and 
we  halted  and  he  made  a  short  speech  to  ixs  and  to  his 
people,  reminding  them  only  of  what  he  had  said  he 
would  do  the  day  previous.  Then  he  shook  hands 
with  us  all  and  cried  With  a  loud  voice,  "Now  all  is 
said,"  and  he  left  with  the  escort  for  his  canip. 

We  continued  our  route  until  12,  o'clock;  weather 
very  hot,  but  everyone  rejoicing  to  be  o§ce.|nore  on 
our  homeward  way.        '  '  1^  A      '^ 

.   The  distance  we  traveled  to  reach  the  camp  was 
about  three  hundred  and  twenty-six  miles.    We  foun4 


road  pleasant  [it  was  in  a  direct  western  cburse] 
ftyer  rolling  prairies  till  we  reached  the  dividing  ridge . 


:«_, 


■t"?i 


'W-5i 


^  '  ; 


A*  GENUINE  INDIAN  SCARE. 


,  » 


of  th^  Yellbwstone  and  Missouri  waters.  The  re- 
maindieiS^f^e  road  was  filled  with  artemisia,  or  worm-* 
wood,  ^hich  made  i)ur  Course  unpleasant  And  difficult. 

In  twenty-seven  days  we  traveled  six  hundred  and 
seventy-two  miles  and  reached  the  fort  safe  and  sound. 
U'  Most  respectfully, 

-  P.  J.  De  Smet,  S.  J. 


\ 


L^ 


<--;f 


(    I 


FORT  SNELI-INa 

THIS  is  one  of  the  oldest  fortifications  in  the 
Northwest,  having  been  established  in  the  year 
1819,  and  built  in  1822,  or  sixty-two  years  ago.  It  is 
located  on  a  high  plateau  at  the  junction  of  the  Missis- 
sippi and  Minnesota  rivers,  and  overlooks  one  of  the 
finest  landscapes  in  the  West.  • 

The  first  white  child  bom  In  what  is  now  known  as 
Minnesota,  was  at  Fort  Snelling.  The  first  white  child 
that  died  in  Minnesota,  was  at  Fort  Snelling.  The 
first  early  settlers  in  what  is  now  known  as  Minnesota, 
were  here.  The  first  three  white  women  in  this  section 
of  country,  were  at  Fort  Snelling.  The  first  boat,  the 
Virginia,  that  ascended  the  Mississippi  river,  in  the  year 
1823,  stopped  at  Fort  Snelling.  Here  General  Grant, 
aftjerthe  surrender  of  Lee,  and  Mrs.  Grant,  were  received 
by  tlie  officers  and  ladies  of  the  fort  and  partook  of  a 
collation  in  what  was  known  as  the  bastion,  near  head- 
quarters building,  which  has  since  been  torn  down. 
Here  the  late  Charles  Sumner,  General  W.  T.  Sher- 
man and  the  writer  received  an  entertainment  at  the 
commanding  officer's  quarters,  in  1854.  Here  have 
been  exciting  Indian  treaties  made.  Hererwds  dcsig- 
nated  the  rendezvous  of  the  troops  for  the  war,  and 
here  is,  even  n<jw,  being  expended  by  the  government, 
not  less  than  $250,000  in  laying  out  streets,  erecting 
excellent  buildings,  beautifying  the  land  and  making 
the  old  fort  grounds  one  of  the  moat  attrar tiva  anH  mo^t 


-A. 


beautiful  of  any  military  reservation  in  the  West.    A 
huge  l^idge,  costing  about  |i  3^,000,  now  ipani  ^e 


^1 


I 


«i4 


F«RT  SNELLIKG. 


#. 


Mississippi  at  the  fort,  and  the  tourist  who  fails  to 
visit  this  renowned  spot  and  catch  a  view  from  its  com- 
manding position,  or  witness  the  troops  there  stationed^ 
or  learn  something  of  its  early  histdry,  loses  that  which  ' 
he  can  never  replace  after  he  has  returned  to  his  East- 
ern home. 

While  stationed  at  the  fort  in  the  year   1863,  I  fre- 
^"^"t^ymet  and  conversed  with  two  Indian  prisoners 
— Shi%e-dean  and  Medicine  Bottle,  two  noted  Sioux 
chiefs— who  were  awaiting  the  sentence  of  death  for 
their  crimes  committed  during  the  terrible  Indian  mas- 
sacre in  1862.    Among  the  other  atrocities  which  it  is 
alleged  they  did,  was  that  of  holding  a  mother,  while 
they  baked  het  babe  in  the  oven  of  the  kitd&n  stove^ 
But  I  will  not  stain  these  pages  with  their  de^ds;  suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  they  were  captured,  tnelfy^and  con- 
demned  to  be  executed.    The  good  heart  of  Abe  Lin- 
coin,  however,  shrank  from  signing  the  death  warrant,  -■ 
but  when  Andrew  Johnson  came  into  power,  he  ordered 
their  execution,  and  they  were  hung  just  outside  of  the 
walls  of  the  fort.    They  belonged, to  the  lower  band 
of  Sioux,  and  not  to  the  Unka-papas  tribe,  headed  bv' 
Sitting  Bull.  s  ^ 


•f**-^ 


INDIAN  SPEECHES  AND  AN  INDIAN 

COUNCIL. 

PERHAPS  we  could  not  find  better  specimens  of 
Indian  oratory  than  those  which  follow.  These 
speeches  were  delivered  at  a  council  with  the  good 
Father  De  Smet  ^nd  the  chiefs,  at  Powder  river,  in 
1868: 

SPEECH    OF   BLACK  MOON. 

"  Listen  well  to  what  I  am  going  to  say."  Address^ 
ing  his  people,  he  raised  the  pipe  to  the  heavens,  and 
pointed  it  to  earth.  Then  addressing  the  Black  Gown, 
he  begged  him  to  touch  it  with  his  lips,  and  let  his 
hand  rest  on  the  stem.  While  doing  so  he  said,  "  let 
us  smoke,"  which  was  done,  and  passed  round  from  us 
to  others.  Then  in  a  loud  voice  he  exclaimed ;  "  The 
Black  Gown  came  far  to  meet  with  us.  He  looks  fa- 
tigued and  careworn.  I  am  glad  to  see  him,  I  welcome 
him  here  with  all  my  heart.  His  words  are  good  and 
full  of  meaning  and  truth.  He  speaks  well.  Every- 
thing he  says  is  the  desire  of  my  heart.  But  thetje  are 
many  sores  in  our  bosoms  to  heal.  Our  country  is  des- 
olated and  impoverished  by  cruel  war,  of  which  begin- 
ning I  claim  no  part.  The  Eastern  Sioux  and  Ghey- 
ennes  commenced  it.  It  haslbeen  forced  on  us,  and  now 
when  we  travel  over  our  country  we  frequently  behold 
red  spots,  and  they  are  not  the  red  spots  of  the  slaugh- 
tered  buffalo,  but  of  our  fellow-comrades,  or  the  white 


men.    Our  country  was  once  iulhoi  game,  but  since  the 
war  the  animals  seem  to  detest  their  native  homes,  and 

m 


'^»i 


2i6 


INDIAN  SPEECHES. 


'f 


I  believe  it  is  in  consequence  of  the  human  blood  that 
they  have  been   driven  far  away.     Again,  the  whites 
.  have  been  cutting  our  country  up  with  roads,  building 
forts  at  different  points  and  frequently  and  unkindly 
put  our  people  in  prison,  and  that  for  little  or  no  bause. 
They  ruin  aur  cOuntry  and  cut  oiir  timber  with  impun- 
ity.    I  have  always  told   them  that  I  did  not  want 
remuneration  for  roads,  nor  would  I  sell  my  countiy,^ 
as  some  of  my  people  have  d6ne.     My  father  lived  and 
died  here  and  so  would  I.    And  if  my  white  brothers 
did  right,  I  don't  think  we  should  have,  or  ever  have 
had,  troubles.     I  haye  always  liked  to  have  goods  to 
trade,  but  I  cannot  bear  the  idea  to  have  the  country 
filled  with  white  men.     Some  are  good;  a  great  many 
are  bad;  they  frequently  treat  us  badly,  and  frequently 
have  our  people  been  shot,  by  the  travelers  over  «he 
plains,  whUe  they  were  seeking  food  for  their  children, 
which  the  Great  Father  gave  them  and  has  taught  it 
was    their  own.     We  have  been   cruelly  treated  and 
many  times  treacherously  deceived,  and  this  while  under 
the  protection  of  the  white  chief.     But  these  things  are 
past,  and  I  now  hope  will  be  forgotten  from  this  day. 
I  will  say  no  n^ore,  but^  will  conclude  my  speaking  by 
thanking  you,  the  Black  Go\Vn,  in  the  hearing  of  all  my 
people  for  the  truly  welcome  news  that  you  have  so 
kindly  brought  us.     We  will  accept  of  your  tobacco- 
and  the  kind  advice  of  our  Great  Father,  and  extend 
our  hand  in  the  presence  of  all,  and  the  Great  Spirit, 
as  the  hand  of  peace."    And  then  turning  to  the  as- 
sembly, he  said,  "  Let  the  past  be  forgotten.     Some  of 
my  young  men  will  accompany  you  to  the  fort  to  ac- 
complish  this  most  of  all  othei^  desired  event.**    He 
then  i-esumed  his  seat. 


>' 


fT'tfP^ 


IN9IAN   SPEECHES. 


31/ 


SPEECH  OF  TWO  BEARS.  ,         ti\ 

Friends :     I  heard  of  the  coming  of  this  good  Black 
Gown  months  ago,  and  on  arriving  welcomed  him  to 
our  country,  east  side  of  the  Missouri,  where  I  wasZprn 
and  raised.    And  as  our  country  is  common  toall;  I 
have  come  along  with  him,  not  alone  to  see  some  of 
my  comrades  with  whom  I  once  trailed  the  war  path,, 
but  to  hear  you  talk,  to  witness  how  you  treat  this,  of 
all  others,  in  my  opinion,  our  truest  and  best  friend. 
The  whites  love  and  respect  him,  and  so  do  I  and  my 
people  the  Yanktonais,  ,and  I  pray  to  the  Great  Spirit 
that  I  may  always  continue  in  the  same  sentiments.     I 
wish  you  to  understand  fully  what  I  say,  for  I  mean  it 
all.     I  do  not  come  here  to  begof  you  any  favors  on 
the  strength  of  our  relationship,  but  I  have  come  here 
with  a  few  of  our  chieftains  and  braves  of  the  eastern 
Sioux,  who  represent  some  seven  hundred  lodges,  to 
tell  you  that  our  minds  are  made  up  and  we  will  be 
guided  by  his  advice  and  the  great  men  (the  commis- 
sioners), sent  by  the  President  to  acconiiplish  something 
definite  for  our  future  welfare.     I  have  listened  with 
care  and  attention  to  all  you  have  said  m  this,  the  most 
important  council  ever  held  in  our  country.     I  say  the 
most  important  because  it  is  foreboding  of  future  weal 
or  woe,  and  headed  by  the  best  of  men,  and  seven  of 
the  greatest  chiefs  of  the  whites.     It  cannot  be  other- 
wise than  tend  to  our  future  good  and  prosperity.     1 
tell  you  on  this  occasion,  one  and  all,  that  my  mind  is 
made  up,  and  it  shall  be  guided  in  the  future  by  the 
advice  of  these  men.     I^  have  been  weary,  fatigued  anr^  -^ 


'f' 


confused,  troubled  ancFperplexed  with  the  various  re- 
ports that  I  have  heard  from  this  source  for  the  1^  two 


lftl>bjJ|c^A«.tb     ■■-■"""T-tl  •^^Tf    -^f  t'- ■^■r"'-  ■■'""■ 


21 8 


INDIAN  SPEECHES. 


M' 


years.  But  seeing  you  all  here,  and  having  heard  you 
all  talk,  and  treat  this  party  so  kindly,  I  must  thank  one 
^  and  all  for  yoiir  wise  and  brave  conclusion.  I  shajl 
leave  you  with  a  heart  full  of  joy,  and  with  hopes  that 
you  shall  ever  continue  as  friends  to  the  whites,  and 
that  the  dark  cloud  of  war  that  has  been  hanging  over 
us  may  be  dispelled.  I  thank  this  good  man,  and  raise 
my  hand  to  the  Great  Spirit,  that  he  may  pity  us  and  ^ 
carefully  guide  our  steps  through  all  coming  time. 

RUNNING  ANTELOPE'S  SP^ECH^UNKAPAPA. 
Friends  and  Relations:  I  have  heard  this  day  with 
pleasure  your  welcome  words  to  "our  true  friend,  who 
ha^  been  traveling  for  three  months  for  no  other  pur- 
pose than  to  bring  blessings  upon  our  people  and  peace 
to  our  country,  for  which  you  all  seem  to  feel  inclined, 
for  my  part  I  have  been  Kstening  to  the  words  of'  the 
whites  for  these  many  years  past,  and  particularly  so 
since  our  late  troubles — caused  more  by  bur  neighbor- 
ing bands  (the  Santes)  than  by  ourselves.  But  now  is 
not  the  time  to  talk  about  the  past ;  it  is  high  time  to  speak 
and  act-ffer  the  future.  I  have  seen  you  and  have  been 
with  you  several  tinjes  since  our  troubles,  and  have 
always  talked  as  you  now  hear  me.  l  had,  on  leaving 
the  post,  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  you  once  more  to  be 
at  peace  with  the  whites— and  that  is  why  you  see  me 

•here  to-day — but,  as  the  req\iest  is  not  necessary — you 
havijig  with  your  own  good  will  seen  the  propriety  of  so 
doing,  all  that  now  remains  forme  to  say  is,  I  thank  you 
in  the  name  of  the  Great  Spirit,  for  your  kind  treat- 
hient  and  attention  to  the  Black  Gown  and  his  party. 

T5oriSyscTf;T  «S  ^^  ^^  you  [he  was  an  Unkapapa]7 
and  can  cajididfy-^eclaire  that  this  day's  council  has 


\^ 


<, 


r 


INDIAN  SPEECHES. 


y 


219 


given  me  more  satisfaction  than  I  have  experienced  for 
many  years.  I  return  to  our  camp  at  the  fort  with  la 
glad  heart,  and  when  I  shall  be  with  the  great  nien  our 
great  father  has  sent,  I  shall  talk  as  you  have  talked  today; 
and  when  all  our  troubles  are  settled,  which  I  hope 
soon  to  be,  then  shall  I  turn  my  eyes  upon  the  Unka- 
papa  camp  and  watch  with  eyes  ^nd  ears  that  you  are 
faithful  to  your  pi^mises  made  to-day  before  the  Great 
Spirit  and  the  flag  of  peace,  which,  is  now  with  you 
and  will  be  left  here  to  remind  you  of  what  you  have  said 
to  the  best  friends  of  our  race.  Four  Horns,  Black 
Moon,  Sitting  Bull,  Jane,  White  Gut,  Bull  Owl,  No 
Neck,  and  all  others — ^you  this  day  by  your  good  words 
and  promises  have  set  an  example  to  follow  for  all 
other  bands.  Now  look  well  to  your  young  men,  and 
often  remind  them  of  the  advice  and  course  pointed 
out  to  you  by  the  Black  Gown.  With  this  truthful  and 
oiily  safe  assurance  to  our  future  happiness, 'the  men 
whoni  you  will  send  to  hear  what  the  great  men  of  the 
gredt  father  will  say  and  do  for  our  future  good  wjU 
be  pleased,  and  for  my  part  they  shall  not  return  dis* 
pleased.  I  shall  make  peace  and  I  trust  shall  never 
break  it." 

Here  the  council  ehded,  and  we  returned  to  our 
lodge,  amidst  shouts  of  songs  and  joy.  The  very  earth 
seemed  to  shake  with  ^their  dancing. 

Father  De  Smet  continues  his  narrative  of  this  in- 
teresting council  as  follows:  Sitting  Bull  then  said 
when  he  first  saw  us  with  the  flag  his  heart  fluttered, 
but  he  bid  it  to  be  quiet ;  and  now  that  he  heard  that  it 
was  thejBag  of  peace,  he  felt  easy  and  undisturbed. 
He  then  told  the  braves  to  take  charge  of  us  and  to 
sec  that  w^Jhad  water  and  -food,  and  requested  them 


-t,> 


_i^??l*>*i 


220 


INDIAN  SPEE(5JIE«. 


hot  on  any  circumstance  to  allow  us  to  go  far  from  the 
lodge,  and  to  attend  to  the  safety  of  our  animals,  v  They 
shook  us  heartily  by  the  hand.  Mr.  Jalpin  was  called 
to  almost  every  lodge  in  the  village  and  was  treated 
with  great  respect  and  kindness.  [Sitting  Bull's  speech 
~on  this  occasion  is  given  elsewhere  in  the  pages  of  this 
book.] 

At  5:30  p.m.  we  commenced  puttirig  our  effects  in 
order  to  make  an  early  start  on  the  next  day.  The 
same  caution  and  the  same  attention  were  given  to  all 
as  before.  After  supper  all  the  chiefs  came  to  the 
lodge  and  passed  the  night  with  us,  and  all  seemed 
pleased  at  the  day's  council. 


»f 


f  ■ '  '^ 

•'. 

» 

'    '  < 

•  -15 

1      "^^     ^ 

,_      V           -1                         ;^ ^ 

r  ■ 

^ 

.yn^ut._  1.  >~.^^  I.  ^-■' 


mmmmmmmmmmm 


,.:# 


Mf^v' 


A  .-*.: 


EARLY  MISSIONARY  EFFORTS  AMONG 
V     -  THE  INDIANS. 

HE  REV.  JOHN  ELIOT  was  styied  by  hjs  con- 
temporaries,  and  he  is  known^J^-poster  ty,  as 
the  Apostle  to  the  Indians."    A  truer  philanthropist 
than  h#did  noit  exist  among  the  early  New  Engenders. 
In  his  day  the  feeling  toward  the  Indians  was  not 
kindly.      It  seems  as  if  the  opinion  prevailed]  then 
which,  has  since  been  embodied  in  the  discreditable 
phrase,  that  "the  only  good  Indian  is  a  dead  one." 
The  Puritans  pronounced  the  Indians  children  of  the 
devil,  and  thought  they  did  a  service  in  ridding  the 
world  of  as  many  of  them  as  possible.    Yet  the  con- 
version and  civilization  of  the  natives  of  America  were 
among  the  professed  objects  for  which  the  Puritans  left 
England.     The  charter  of  Massachusetts  granted  by 
Charies  I.  contains  an  expression  of  the  hope  that  the 
settlers  to  whom  it  is  granted  "  may  win  and  incite  the 
natives  of  the  country  to  the  knowledge  and  obedience 
of  the  only  true  God  and  Savior  of  mankind  and  the 
Christian  faith,  which  is  our  royal  intention,  and  the 
adventurers*  free  profession  is  the  principal  end  of  this 
plantation."     The  first  sea;  of  Massachusetts  repre- 
sented an  Indian  giving  utterance  to  the  words,  "Come 
over  and  help  us."       ^  „  _  _ 

.  John  Eliot  was  a  native  of  Nasing,  in  Essex,  where 
he  was  born  in  1604.    Little  is  known  ^haut  hi<»  f^.^^, |y 


m( 


his  early  years.     It  is  unquesUonable   thaThe 
received  a  good  education,  but  where  or  by  whom  is 


••P': 


222 


EARLY  MISSIONARY  EFFORTS 


uncertain.     His  own  words  tmply  that  his  family  wei 

^fi^-fearing  persons  who  trained  him  with  care.  'About 

the  yedr  1630  he  became  usher  in  a  schpoMcept  by  the 

Rev.  Thomas'  Hooker  at  Little  Baddow,  near  Chelms 

ford.    Hooker  was  one  of  the  mdst  popular  Puritan 

cleijgymen  of  his  time.    His  preaching  at  Chelmsford 

had  been , very  effective ;  but  his^eloquent  tongue  was 

silenced  by  Laud,  becaus*  he  would  not  conform  on 

certain  points  of  ritual.  »>pon  which  Laud  set  great 

store.    At  the  request  of  several  infltiential  members 

of  his  congregation,  he  took  puj)ils,  and  engaged  John 

Eliot  as  usher.     The  result  >^  that   Elipt  became 

imbued  with  Hooker's  opinioiji|iind  inspired  with  a 

desire  to  become  a  preacher  of  the  gospel.     Referring 

to  his  sojourn  in  Hooker's  house," he  wrote  that  "to 

this  place  I  was  called  through  the  infinite  riches  of 

God's  mercy  in  Christ  Jesus  to  my  poor  soul  •"  for  here 

the  Lord  said  unto  ray  dead  soul,  Z«W/  and  through 

the  gi^ce  of  Christ  I ^  live,  aitd  I  shall  live  forever. 

When  I  came  to  this  blbssed  family,  I  then  saw,  and 

never  before,  the  power  of  godliness  in  its  lively  vigor 

and  efficacy."  ;^        '  *,  „ 

Eliot,  having  apparently  incurred  the  suspi|:ion  of 
the  ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  finding  insurrhounta- 
ble  obstacles  interposed  to  his  following  the  profession 
of  teacher,  resolved. ta  cross  the  Atlantic.  He  was  one 
of  sixty  passengers  in  the  ship  "  Lyon,"  which  arrived 
at  Boston  on  the  3d  of  November,  1631.  Among  the 
passengers  were  the  wife,  the  eldest  son,  and  other  chil- 
dren  of  Governor  Wintrop.  The  congregation  of  the 
first   church  of  Boston  earnestly  desired   that  Elioit 


should  become  their  pasl:or.     before  leaving  England 
he  had  promised  to  hiTthe  pastor  in  America  of  seveml 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 

families  of  Puritans,  who  contemplated  emigrating 
thither,  and,  as  thejMFuliiried  their  intention  and  set- 
tled at  Roxbuiy,  he  kept  .his'promiseJjy  settling  there 
also.  A  year  after  landing  at^  Boston  he  was  married, 
his  wife  being  a  lady  wbglpe  acquaintance  he  had  made 
m  England,  arid  who  folldwed  h>i  to  America. 

In  a  work  published  in  1654,  entitled  the  «  Wonder- 
working  Providence  of  Sion's  Saviour  in  New  England  " 
the  following  account  is  given  of  the  founding^f  the 
.Church  at  Roxbury,  of  Roxbury  itself,  and  of  Eliot: 
^  "  The  fifth  church  of  Christ  was  gathered  at  Roxbury, 
situated  between  Boston  and  Dorchester,  being  well 
watered  with  cool  and  pleasant  sp«ngs  issuing  forth 
from  the  rocky  hills,  and  with  small  freshets  watering 
the  valleys  of  this  fertile  town,  whose  form  is  somewhat 
hke  a  wedge,  double-pointed,  entering  between  the  two 
fore-named  towns,  filled  with  a  very  laboriSus  people 
whose  labors  the  Lord  hath  so  blessed  that  in  the 
room  of  dismal^wamps  and  tearing  bushes  th^y  have' 
very  goodly  fruit  trees,  fruitful  fields  and  gardens,  t;heir 
herd  of  cows,  oxen,  and  other  young  fcattle  of.  that 
.  kind  about  three  hundred   and    fifty,  and  dwelling- : 
houses  near  updtr^e  hundred  and  twehty.  .  Their  ' 
streets  are  large,  and  some  fair  houses,  yet  have  they  . 
built  their  house  for  church  assembly  destitute  and 
unbeautified  with  other   buildings,      the-  chuTch  of 
Christ  here  is  increased  to   about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  persons.     Their  first  teaching  elder  called  to 
office  IS  Mr.  Eliot,  a  young  man  at  his  coming  hither* 
of  a  cheerful  spirit,  walking  unblamabl?,  of  a  godly 
conversation,  apt  to  teach,  as  hj  Ms  indefatiga^^ 


^  ^^*^  ^  own  flock  and  the  poor  Indians,  doth 
appear,  whose  language  he  learned  purposely  to  help 


»il- 


m 


\r 


S^l^^'^l^.i^     EAkLV  MISSIONARY  EFFORTS  , 

them"  to  the  knowledge  of  God  in  Christ,  frequently   ' 
preaching  in  their  wigwanrs  and  catechising  their  chil- 
dren." .'.  V-  /■       "\-,^-    .  .'■■•.        .'  .  ..    - 

Few  incidents  of  irhportance  are -preserved  as  to 
Elfot's  life  as  jiastor  at  Roxbury.  The  most  note-  ' 
worthy  relates  to  an  early  stage  in  his  career  there; 
whjen  he  Was  taken  to  task  by  The  rulers  of  Massachu-*  ^ 
setts  for  ha\{ing  improperly  reflected  upon  their  con- 
duct. Hisr  offense  consisted  1n^  censuring  them  in  a 
sermon  for  having  made  peace  with  the  Pequot  Indiana 
without  consultiftg  those  among  the  people  who  were 
entitled  to  vote..  Three  clergymen  who  were  appointed' 
to  "deal  with  him,"  brought  him  to  acknowledge  that 
he  had  erre(l  in  holding  that  the  magistrates  c|>uld  not 
conclude  a  peace  on  their  own  authority,  and  he  made 
public  acknowledgment  of  his|  mistake.  He  was  one  of 
the  clergymen  who  actively  took  part  against  Mrs. 
Anne  Hutchinson.  He  was  as  uhi^haritable  as  any  of 
his  colleagues  in  treating  that  unfortunate  woman,  who 
was  punished  for  her  independence  of  spirit  with  excom-- 
munication  and  banishment. 

In  .the  year  1646,  fifteen  years  after  he  had  settled  in 
New  England,  Elicit  began  to  preach  to  the  Indians  in 
their  own  tongue.  Before  so  doing  he  had  spent  some 
time  in  mastering  their  language.  He  learned  it  from 
a  young  native  employed  in  his  house,  whom  he  de- 
scribes as  "  a  pregnant-witted  young  man  who  had  been 
a  servant  in  an  English  house,  pretty  well  understood 
his  own  language,  and  had  a  clear  pronunciation." 

Irrespective  of   the  philanthropy  which  prompted 
Eliot  to  render  service  to  the  Indians,  there  was  an 
" Tninience^^IcK^  specialTy"lno\^  othetC^ 

held  these  Indians  to  be  children  of  the«  devil,  he  firmly 


•  * 


AMONG  TH^g^DIANS. 


J3$ 

believed  t^to  be  descendants  of  the  lost  tribes  of  the 
house  of  Israel.    To  raise  these  people  from  their  fallen 


and  degraded  state  was,  in  hisiopinion,.a  sacred  duty.  "H^ 
was  not  singular  in  thinking  that  the  Indians  were  of 
Jewish  descent;  the  same  theory  still  finds  adherents. 
The'ongin  of  the  North  American  IndiansJs  involved 
m  as  great  mystery  in  our  day  as  it  was  when  Eliot 
lived,    Anything  may  be  conjectured  about  them  with 
plausibility,  because  so  very  little  is  known  with  cer- 
tainty.  ,Yet  it  is  no  longer  doubtful  that  these  Indians 
were  not  the  first  or  only  inhabitants  of  the  country 
before  the  advent  'of  white  men.    Another  race,  called 
Mound  Builders,  which  has  long  been  extinct,  possessed 
the  land  before  the  Indians,  and  they  were\ither  driven 
from  It  southward  or  exterminated.    The  lot  of  the 
Indians,  owing  to  the  conduct  of  the  white  men  who 
have  mastered  and  supplanted  them,  cannot,  at  the 
worst,  be  more  deplorable  than  that  of  the.  Mound 
Builders  whom  these  Indians  subdued  and  succeeded. 
.1  After  laboring  for  two  years  to  obtain  a  colloquial 
command  over  the  tongue  spoken  by  the  Indians  of 
Massachusetts,  Eliot  considered  himself  qualified  fof 
preaching  to  them.    The  first  Christian  sermon  in  th^ 
Indian  tc^ngue  delivered  on  the  North  American  con- 
tinent wis  delivered   by  Eliot  at  Nonantum  on  the 
28th  of  October,  1646.     His  text  wa^the  9th  and  loth 
verses  of  the  37th  chapter  of  Ezekiel— "  Then  said 
he  unto  me,  Prophesy  unto  the  wind,  phrophesy,  son 
oi  man,  ind  say  to  the  wind,  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God : 
Come  from  the  four  winds,  O  breath,  and  breathe  upon 
these  slain,  that  they  may  live.    So  I  prophesied  as  He 
xomnraiTae'd-me,  and  the  l.reath  came^lmolhem,  and 
they  lived,  and  stood  up  upon  their  feet,  an  exceeding 


K^^>^''^^ 


R<B!f55'ft<V"-«»'?'."5-; 


«^ 


226 


EARLY  MISSIONARY  EFFORTS 


great  army."  In  his  sermon  he  explained  the  character 
of  Christ,  the  purpose  and  manner  of  His  appe^arance 
upon  earth.  He  told  them  of  the  judgment  day,  when 
the  wicked  are  to  suffer  and  the  good  are  to  be 
rewarded.  He  urged  them  to  repent  of  their  sins  as 
fallen  children  of  Adam,  and  to  pray  to  God  and  accept 
Christ  as  their  Savior.  He  invited  questions  after  his 
sermon,  and  he  found  it  as  difficult  to  return  satis- 
factory replies  a^  in  our  day  Bishop  Colenso  did  in  the 
case  of  the  inquiring  Zulu.  1* 

After  satisfying. their  curiosity,  Eliot  received  their 
thanks.  He  neither  spared  himself  nor  them.  His 
sermon  lagged  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  and  the  confer- 
ence three  hours.  As  a  reward  for  their  patient  atten- 
tion, he  distributed  tobacco  among  the  men  and  apples 
.among  the  children.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  course 
of  leaching  which  Eliot  kept  up  during  forty  year's,  in 
addition  to  discharging  his  duties  as  pastor  of  Roxbury. 
He  underwent  many  dangers  as  well  as  severe  itoil. 
What  he  sometimes  endured,  and  the  spirit  wpich 
always  animated  hi*,  can  be  gathered  from  his  Wn 
words  to  Mr.  Wirislow:  "I  have  not  been  dry,  night 
or  day,  from  the  third  day  of  the  week  until  the  sikth, 
but  so  traveled,  and  at  night  pull  off  my  boots,  wring 
my  stockings,  and  on  with  them,  and  so  continue.  But 
God  steps  in  and  helps.  I  have  considered  the  Word 
of  God,  II.  Timothy,  it  3, '  Endure  hardship^as  a.gdod 
soldier  of  Jesus  Christ.' "  [ ' 

One  of  the  fipt  fruits  of  his  teaching  was  to  excit^  i 
desire  on  the  part  of  the  Indians  to  have  their  childilen 
Mucated  in  the  EngHsh .  fash  inn  ■  ^  Aconyert  named 


Wampas  brought  his  own  son  to  Eliot,  and  three  oth|er 
children,  of  whom  the  youngest  was  four  and  the  elddat 


'  tiJi 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


227 


iharacter 
pe'arance 
ay,  when 
e  to  be 
ir  sins  as 
d  accept 
after  his 
rn  satis^ 
idi  in  the 

eq  their 
m.i  His 
e  cpnfer- 
nt  ^ten- 
d  aipples 
a£^urse 
yea^s,  in 
Loxbury. 
ere  Itoil. 
t  wpich 
his  i^wn 
^,  night 
le  sixth, 
:s,  wring 
le.  But 
ieWi)rd 

I  awffpod 

-      1 '   ■, 

children 
named  ^ 
ee  othjer 
le  eldest 


was  nine,  with  the  request  that  they  might  be  brought 
.  up  by  him  in  the  fear  and  knowledge  of  God.  The 
same  Indian  and  two  others  sought  and  found  situa- 
tions in  English  families,  with  a  view  of  being  better 
instructed  in  religion.  Difficulties  of  various  kinds  had 
to  be  overcome.  Iti  addition  to  accepting  the  religious 
faith  offered  to  them, by  the  English  missionary,  the 
Indians  copied  the  English  fashion  of  cropping  their 
hair.  This  exposed  them  to  the  derision  of  their  uncon- 
verted  brethren.  But  they  had  a  still  harder  trial  to 
undergo.  Speaking  for  his  fellow  converts,  Wampas 
told  Eliot  that  "on  the  one  hand,  the  other  Indians 
hate  and  oppose  us  because  we  pray  to  God ;  on  the 
other,  the  English  -wilj  not  put  confidence  in  us,  and 
-suspect  that  we  do  not  teally  pray."  Eliot  admitted 
that  such  a  suspicion  was  entertained  by  some  of  the 
English,  adding  that,  for  his  part,  he  considered  it 
groundless.  # 

.,  It  was  natural  that  the  Powaws,  or  priests,  should 
have  objected  to  Eliot's  work  and  have  placed  obstacles 
in  his  path.  He  had  the  triumph  of  converting  one 
Pow^w,but  he  found  it  hard  to  satisfy  another  who 
asked  him  how  it  happened  that  the  English  were 
twenty-seven  years  in  the  country  before  attempting 
to  teach  their  religion  to  the  Indians.  The  Powaw 
urged  that  if  this  had  been  done  sooner  much  sin  might 
have  been  prevented ;  "  but  now  some  of  us  arc  grown 
old  in  sin."  All  that  could  be  said  by  way  of  defense 
aitd  explanation  wa$  that  the  English  had  repented 
tl|ei»  of  their  neglect,  as  was  evinced  by  the  efforts 
jyhjch,  Eliot  and  othprs  were  theiv  maki 


fig? 


sequence  of  the  adoption  of  Christianity,  the  Indians 
had  to  change  many  oM  habiti  and  customs,  and  in 


Sr^SrSiZi^" 


228 


EARLY   MISSIONARY  EFFORTS 


doing  SO  they  were  often  perplexed.    They  were  en- 
joined to  renounce  polygamy;  but  they  asked  which  of' 
their  wives  should  they  put  away?    They  were  told 
that  gaming  was  sinful ;  but  they  asked  was  it  permis- 
sible to  repudiate  debts  contracted  before  their  conver- 
sion through  gaming  with  non-praying  Indians?'  This 
last  question  gave  Eliot  great  concern.     He  could  not 
reply  that  gaming  was  lawful,  nor  would  he  counte- 
nance the  breach  of  a  promise.     He  found  a  way  out 
of  the  dilemma  by  urging  on  the  creditor  that  gamkig 
was  sinful,  and  persuading  him  to  reduce  his  claim  by  ] 
one  half;  by  informing  the  debtor  that,  though  he  had 
sinned  by  gaming,  yet  that  he  must  fulfill  his  prom- 
ise, and  by  Inducing  him  to  pay  one  half  of  what  he 
owed.    This  compromise  was  adopted  in  all  cases  of 
..the  kind,  but  it  led  to  the  result  of  a  winner  at  play 
counting  upon  receiving  and  the  loser  of  paying  half 
the  amount  in  each  ease,  so  that  the  change  w^  no 
real  improvement.  % 

The  conversion  of  Cutshamakin,  an  In^an  Sachem, 
was  one  of  Eliot's  triumphs.  He  did  not  find  this 
Sachem  a  very  meek  or  tractable  Christian.  On  the 
contrary,  the  Sachem  was  not  gratified  to  see  the  mem- 
bers of  his  tribe  walking  in  new  paths.  He  complained 
bitterly  that  the  converts  ceased  to  pay  tribute  to  him 
as  in  the  old  time,  and  feared  that  he  might  eventually 
be  left  without  any  revenue.  His  complaint  was  dili- 
gently investigated.  The  Indians  alleged  that  they  had 
paid  the  accustomed  tribute  to  their  chief;  that  at  one 
time  he  had  received  from  them  six  bushels  of  maize, 
and  twenty  at  another;  that  he  had  obtained  their  scr- 
vices  mTTunting  for  wveral  days;  thanfteeiTdeer  had 
been  killed  for  him ;  that  two  acres  of  land  had  been 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


229 


broken  knd  a  large  wigwam  built  for  him.  Efiot  held 
that  this  was  an  ample  payment  for  one  year  He 
eventually  learned  that  the  Sachem's  real  grievance  was, 
that  the  converted  Indians  were  not  so  ready  as  the 
others  to  comply  with  all  his  orders  and  submit  to  his 
despoticrule. 

^   Eliofs  labors  to  benefit  tKlndian^ere  so  much  ap- 
predated  in  Massachusetts  that,  on  th^  26th  of  May 
1647,  the  General  Court  passed  the  following  resolul 
tion :-« It  is  ordered  that  ;^io  be  given  to  Mr.  Eliot  as 
a  gratuity  from  this  Court  in  respect  of  ^lis  pains  in  in- 
structing  the  Indians  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  that 
order  be  taken  that  the  ;^20  per  annum  given  by  the 
l^dy  Armme  for  that  purpose  may  be  called  for  and  ^ 
employed  accordingly.-  The  tidings  of  his  work  crossed 
the  sea  and  became  the  subject  of  deliberation  in  Par- 
hament.    It  waf  held  to  be  the  duty  of  -the  godly  and 
WelUffected"  to  4id  the  enterprise,  and  a  Loktion 
was  passed  on  the  17th  of  March,  1647,  desiring  the 
comiffjttee    on  plantations  to   prepare  an   ordinance 
.  for  the  encouragement  and  advancement  of  learning 
and  p.iety  in  New  England."    No  result  followed  tiU 
the  27th  of  July,  1649,  when  an  ordinance  to  the  same 
effect  being  passed,  a  corporation  was  founded  for  the 
propagation  of  the  gospel  in  New  England :  a  general 
collection  was  ordered  to  be  made  in  the  churches  of 
England^n^  Wales,  and  the  clergymen  were  required 
to  read  Wordinance  from  their  pulpits.    The  iihiver- 
sities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  issued  an  appeal  in  sup- 
port  of  the  undertaking.    Though  the  sum  placed  at 
thft  disposal  of  4h€^<''-^- *■ » 


ficcd  to  establish  schools  for  the  Indians,  to  supply  them" 
with  impiqncnU  of  husbandry,  and  to  defray  the  coat 


b^a' 


i^O 


«ARLY,  MISSIONARY  EFFORTS 


of  printing  Eliot's  translation  of  the  Bible,  and  other 
books  into  the  Indian  tongue.  ^    "  ^   .  \ 

When  Charles  II.  became  king  it  was  feared  that  the 
corporation  for^pfopagating  Christianity  isimong  the  In- 
dians would  share  the  fate  of  oth^r  institutions  estab- 
lished during  the  commonwealth.  Happily,  the  corpo- 
ration for  the  propagation  of  the  gospel  found  a  warm  - 
supporter  jn  Robert  Boyle,  through  whose  representa^ 
tions  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon  advised  the  king  to 
grant  a  new  charter  to  it.  Under  this  charter,  Boyle 
was  appointed  governor,  and  he  directed  the  affairs  of 
the  corporation :with  great  zeal,  earning  Eliot's  heartfelt 
gratitude.  "    ^  t,  " 

It  was  Eli'dt's  conviction  that,  unles^  the  praying  In- 
dians, as  the  converts  were  always  styled^  lived  in  the 
European  fashion  there  was  a  fear  lest  they  should, 
lapse  from  the  right  path.  Accordingly,  he  planned  a 
town  where  they  might  live  together.  It  was  called 
Natick,  being  situated  -•n  the  banks  of  the  Charles 
River,  eighteen  miles  to  the  southeast  of  Boston. 
Natick  is  described  as  a  town  covering  six  thousand 
acres,  wherein  gne  hundred  and  forty  Indians  dwelt. 
It  had  three  long  streets,  two  on  the  north  side  and 
one  on  the  south.  A  bridge,  built  by  the  Indians, 
spanned  the  river.  There  was  a  fort  for  their  protec- 
tion. Some  families  dwelt  in  wigwarris ;  others  in  houses 
on  the  Engli.sh  hiodel.  A  large  building  served  as  a 
place  of  meeting  on  Sundays  and  a  school-house  on 
week-days,  ft  h^d  an  upper  floor,  in  one  comer  of- 
which  a  room  Wa^  partitioned  o£f  to  serv^  as  a  bed- 
chamber for  Eliot.  -*  '  * 


After  the  praying  Indians  had  taken  up  theirabode. 
at  Natick  t^ey  applied  to  Eliot  to  devise  a  plan  of  mu-* 


AMONG  THE   INDIANS. 


S|I 


K 


nicipal  government  for  them.  He  had  previously  ffi- 
duced^he  converts  to  agree  to  the  following,  among 
-other  conditions :— " Powawing"  anrf  drunkenness  were 
to  be  punished  with  a  fine  of  20s.  for  each  offense;  the 
person  convicted  of  stealing  was  to  restore  fourfold  the 
-aoiount  taken;  the  profaner  of  the  Sabbath  was  to  be 
finM20s.;  a  wife-beater  was  to  pay  the  same  fine; 
while\murder  and  monstrous  crimes  were  to  be  punished 
with  dn^ath.  The  converts  likewise  agreed  to  pray  in 
their  wigwams,  to  say  grace  before  and  after  meat,  to 
cease  howling,  greasing  their  bodies,  and  adorning  their 
h4ir,  and  to  follow  the  English  fashions. 

Eliot  held  that  all  governments  should  be  founded 
on  the  pattern  given  in  the  Old  Testament;  he  was 
anxious  that  England  should  set  an  example  in  this 
respect,  hoFding  that  "it  would  be  a  blessed  day  in 
England  when  the  word  of  God  shall  be  their  Magna 
Gharta  and  chief  law  book,  and  when  all  lawyers  shall 
be  divines  and  study  the  Scriptures."  .It  was  natural, 
then,  that  he  should  give  effect  to  his  views  at  Natick[ ' 
and  should  persttade  the  Indians  there  to  divide  th^ 
community  into  hundreds  and  tithi'ngs,  and  should  ap; 
point  rulers  over  hundreds,  rufers  over  fifties,  and  rulers 
over  tens,  or  tithing  men.  He  enjoined  the-payment  of 
tithes  on  strictly  scriptural  grounds,  and  the  Indians 
consented  to  do  as  he  desired.  Having  settled  the 
manner  in  which,  subject  to  the.  General  Court  of  Masi 
sachusetts,  these  Indians  should  govern  themselves, 
Eliot  induced  theip  to  enter  into  a  solemn  covenant! 
On  the  6th  of  August,  165 1,  they  assembled  together, 
and,  after  "'  '  •.,.... 


djyincaeryicft,  the  following  -dcckmfe 


ceived  their  assent : — 
••  We  arc  the  jiqiis  of  Adim.   We  and  our  ferefathcM 


■-;*-^'?^ 


222^ 


EARlrY  MISSIONARY  EFFORTS 


have  a  long  time  been  lost  in  bur  sins;  but  now  the 
mercy  of  the  Lord  bpgiriileth  to  find  us  out  again. 
Therefore,  the  grace  of  Christ  helping  us,  we  *db  give 
ourselves  an^  our  children  to  God,-  to  be  His  people. 
He  shall  rule  us  in  all  our  affairs,  not  only  Ip  our  relig. 
ion  and  affairs  of  the  church,  but  also  in  all  our  works 
and  affairs  in  this  world.  God  shall  rule  over  us.  The 
Lord  is  our  Judge;  the  Lofdi^our  law-giver;  the  Lord 
is  our  King,  He  will  save  us.  The  wisdom  which  God 
*  hath  taught  us  in  His  book,  that  shall  guide  us  and 
direct  us  in.  the  way.  O  Jehovah !  teach  us  wisdom  to 
find  out  thy  wisdom  in  thy  Scriptures.  Let  the  grace 
of  Christ  help  us,  because  Christ  is  the  wisdom  of  God. 
Send  thy  SpMt  into  our  hearts,  and  let  it  teach  us. 
Lord,  take  us  to  be  thy  people,  and  let  us  take  thee  to 
be  our  God;"       * 

Nine  years  after  these  proceedings  a  further  step  was 
taken  in  the  (Jirection  of  puttirg  the -praying  Indians 
on  a  foQting  of  equality  with  their  white  brethren.    A    ' 
church  on  the  congregational  model  was  founded  there, 
so  that  the  Indians  of  Natick  enjoyed  the  same  civil 
and  religious  privileges  as  the  Puritans  of  Boston.     In 
the  strict  observance  of  their  religious  duties  the  In- 
dians were  patterns,  to  niany  of  their  white  brethren. 
They  even  complained,  not  without  reason,  that  white 
men  did  not  seem  toi)e  sufficiently  scrupulous  in.  their 
religious  ^observances.     On  the  other  hand,  the  white 
men  expected  the  Indians  to  be  faultless,  and  regarded 
any  error ^on  their  parts  as  the  evidence  o(. an  ineradi-  ' 
cably  perverse^ature.  -      -      M 

The  most  grievous  trial  which  the  praying^.Indians 


had  To  endure,   and^theliiost  ^sponding  period  in 
Eliot's  dealings  with  them,  was  during  the  year  of  the 


-» 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  3,, 

wan  commonly  called  King  Philip-s  war,  which  began 
ni675      This  was  the  most  vigorous  effort  as  welf  as 
^the   last   comhmed   attempt  of  the  Indians  to  ex  er 
:     mmate  the  white  men  in  New  England.    The  loTs  o" 

the  settlers  were  slain.     Much  property  was  destroyed 

Thirteentowns  were  laid  in  ruins;  hundreds  ofaweli 

ngs  were  burned  to  the  ground.    Whilst  the  host!  1. 

t.es  between  thelndians  and  white  men  were  TpZ 

Z^f',J  Z  '"•"""•^"^n  n«:e  regarded  them  as  en^ 

■  W  if  ^"^Tl^T  "°-*  only  "igarded  as  foes  at 
heart  but  eveo^  Indian's  life  was  in  danger  at  the  hands 

cof  the  exasperated  and  panic-stricken  whites.  The 
Genera^urt,  unable  to  withstand  the  pressure  of  pubUc 
opmion  ordered  that  the  Indians  at  Natick  should  be 
transported   for  ^fe  custody  to  Deer  Island.     They 

Philip  the  Indians  were  permitted  ti  return,  at  their 
own  expense,  to  ti,eir  old  homes.  Such  as  d  d  retum 
keenly  feU  that  the  love  arirf  charity,  which  they  ha™ 

ttm  Tint  Phi?™""'  ""•=  "°*  d-Played  toLd, 
ant.;,  ,^  Ph'l'P^  war  proved  the  hopelessness  of 
any  struggle  m  the  field- between  Indians  an<l  white 

Zm!^  'i^r  '  ""'^  *°  '''^  =P'*^  of  Christianity 

listen  to  teacher^  whose  brethren  flagrantly  violated  the 
precepts  which  they  inculcated.  .  y^o'^tedthe 

In  1797.  one  hundred  and  twenty^)**  years  after  the 
war  which  ended  with  Philip--  a^.u  ^^/n  "    "!lu.! 
JUwIger   minister  at  Natick,  was  asked  to  give  an  ac 
couflt  of  ihe  Indians  there.    He  was  then  in  Ws  «vet 


234 


EARLY   MISSIONARY  EFFORTS 


t 


/■ 


ty-second  year,  and  had  beheld  many  changes.  The 
white  men  had  ousted  the  Indians  from  their  property 
and  offices  at  Natick  before  the  time  that  Mr.  Badger 
wrote ;  the  church  members  had  been  re^luced  to  two 
or  three ;  one  of  them  was  an  aged  Indian  woman,  who 
could  still  understand  the  tongue  of  her  people,  but  ^ 
could  not  speak  it.  At  the  present  day  not  an  Indian 
in  existence  can  speak  the  language  which  Eliot  leamdd 
in  order  to  preach  the  gospel,  and  into  which  he  trans-, 
lated  the  Bible.  His  translation  of  the  Bible  is  a  monu- 
ment of  vast  labor.  The  only  practical  value  of  that 
translation  now  consists,  in  th^  service  it  renders  to  the* 
philological  s|:pdentswho  investigate  the  dead  tongue  of 
an  extinct  race.  Besides' the  Bible,  Eliot  translated  the 
catechism  and  Baxter's  "  Call  to  the  Unconverted"  and 
the  "  Practice  of  Piety."  He  labored  zealously  and 
without  ceasing  during  a  long  life.  In  1688  he  wi'otc 
to  Boyle,  saying,  "  I  am  drawing  home,"  and  on  20th 
May,  1690,  he  passed  away;  in  his  eighty-sixth  year, 
uttering  the  words,  "  Welcome,  joy."  % 

EJiot'l  wife,  whom  he  married  the  year  after  he  set- 
tled in  New  England,  died  three  years  before  Wm.  He 
had  six  children,  of  whom  a  son  .and  a  daughter  alone 
survived  him.  He  owed  much  to  his  wife,  who  managed 
his. household  admirably.  He  was  not  exacting  in 
domestic  affaits,  and  his  tastes  were  so  simple  that  he 
was 'very  easily  pleased ;  he  liked^  the  plainest  food,  and 
he  drank  water  from  choice.  He  had  two  great  aver- 
sions—^wigs  and  tobacco.  Wearing  wigs  he  regarded 
as  a  lust  of  the  flesh,  ^d  tobacco  he  considered  a  weed 
produced  by  satan  for  rtian's  injury. 


^^ 


The  blunders  with  which  Eliot  is  chai^able  art  few 
and  trivial,  while  his  good  deeds  are  innumerable.    Hii 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


235 


^rT^v  r  •"'  T°'"'^'  ^'^  ^'^  one  Of  the  small 
band  of  jWuans  m  whom  there  was  no  guile.  Unhap- 
.pily,  he  could  not  leave  behind  him  a  body  of  men  im! 
bued  with  his  spirit,  and  fitted  to  continue  his  work 
tr^M^^^w'"","*  6«"eration.  Had  ^he  Indians  on 
]^\™.^^<^  Continent  been  constantly  treated 
IT  v!.T  "^""^  animated  Eliot,  the  histoo' of  the 
United  ■States.would  be  free  from  many  grievous  stains. 
It  was  not  Ehofs  fault  that  the  Indians  of  New  Eng- 
land faded  away  till  the  land  wherein  they  were  once 

^  st.ll  held  m  honor  as  that  of  one  who  lovedhis  fellow. 

men,  and  who  devqj«d  a  long  and  laborious  life  to  their 

service.'  ^  ;  ■  ■■  \*tv 


.fVv 


J 


^~ 


INDIAN   POETRY. 


4*H. 


M 


HE  WILL  COME.     . 

E-ye-he-kta!  E-ye-he-ktaf 
He-ktapce ; -e^e-ce-quon.   ^ 
^Mf-Wamdee-ska,  he-he-kta; 
He-kta-ce ;  e-ye-ce-quon, 
.  Mi-Wamdee-ska.      • 


TRANSLATION. 

:  He  will  come!  he  will  come? 
He  will  come,  for  he  promised, 
My  White  Eagle,  he  will  come; 
He  will  come,  for  he  promisecl,— 
My  White  Eagle. 


.,  ,,u, 


COME  AGAIN. 

Ak^  u,  ak^  u,  ak^  v^ ; 
Ma  c4nt^  mas^ca. 
Ak6  u,  dk€  u,  ak6  u ; 
Ma  c&nt^  mas^ca*        . 


Conie  again,  come  again,  come  again; 
For  my  heart  is  sad. 


Come  again,  come  again,  come  again, 
For  my  heart  is  sad.     ^ 

28A 

fVW 


INDIAN.  POETRV. 

THE  GIANTS'  DANCE 

Crehng  the  pot  and  the  blazing  fire 

R^ndtd^nT'o'thi^  r  *^  ""^  '--'".• 
A„j  ™''"°  to  their  hearts' desire 

And  ever  the  same  wild  chant  and  tuie-- 

Ha,ha,ha.ha,ha.ha-hal" 
F^  r*"''"'  *^y  '^''P-  ""d  their  bumine  eve, 

Ser:raVd"S'":,^;'"r«-'"^«- 


237 


NEVER!    ^fEVERI 


My  father!  my  father  f  )!*..        j 

A«^  fu    J      ,     lacner!  iier  words  were  tru«». 

And  the  death  of  Wiwdst^  v^iu  .   Z  * 


El  I  will  be  wife  to  the  fierce  Red  Cloud.  ' 


•3« 


IHDIAH  POETRY. 


'■*! 


v;5'. 


'l 


GRANDFATHER*     i 

TunkAnsiddn  pejihiita  wakin        .2* 
,      Micagfe-4ie  wicUgfe  T  . 

1  4  Mimydta  it6  wakdnd6  mak6  ^ 

Tankdnsidaii  ite,  n^pfe  dii-win-ta-woo, 
Wahjitdpa  wan  yiiha,  n^pfe  du-win-ta-top. 

<TRANSLATION* 

Grandfather  made  me  magical  medicine; 

That, is  true! 
Being  of  mysterjr— grown  in  the  water—- 

He  gave  it  me!  ^ 

To  the  fa^e  of  our  Grandfather  stretch  oat  your  hand ; 
Holding  a  quadruped,  stretch  out  youf  hand  I. 


TO  THE  SPIRIT  LAND. 

At  last,  when  their  locks  were  as  white  as  snow, 
*     Beloved  and  honored  by  all  the  band. 

They  silenlly  slipped  from  their  lodge  below, 
And  walked  together,  and,  hand-in-hand, 
O'er  the  shining  path  to  the  spirit  land. 


• 

„            N.\     ' 

ff 

* 

^ 

■?■ 

*                 M 

***^ 

% 

» 

- 

. 

' 

*  <•"    ' 

- 

' 

• 

' 

NUMBER  OF  INDIANS  IN  THE  UNITED 
3TATESIN  i88d 

THE  aggregate  Indian  population  in  the  United 
States  in  the  year  1880,  exclusive  of  Alaska,  was 
255.938,  as  follows  :# 

Arizona      ,.:....... ,8.760     Montaha...... ...ai.ejo 

Caifornia.. ;...»...... ....4,100     Nebraska........ .4,306 

Colorado. .3,530     Nevada. ..... . ./. ......... .6  800 

rf'°^'' • v-'a^.i68  New  Mexico.......... ...33,452 

Idaho.  3,420     New  York ,...., .... .  .5,130 

Indian  Territory. ........ .17,398     Oregon ,..;.. . .  .::v.  .4,555 

Indian  Territory,  (civilized/  Utah.. .............450 

,  *"^®^) 59.187.  „  Washington T«iTi*to'ry! ...W^iSq 

^°^^ •••• 355  Wisconsin....  J\..;..... .7,637. 

Kansas. 684  Wyoming. 

Michigan...;,  ;^,.., ,.;... jo,i4i 
Minnesota. . . ,. ; .6,198 


!•••••« 


/.2,o6^ 


There  are  sixty  agencies  in  the  United  States,  and 
not  under  government  control,  15,802  Indians.    Total, 

CIVILIZED  INDIANS  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  IN  1880 
There  were  66,407  civilized  Indians  in  the  United 
States  in  1880-males,  33,985 ;  females,  3^,422,  as  fof- 
lows:^ 

Alabama..... 21^  Missouri ..-^.....113 

^'l*""* •  -3.493  Montana i ..; .. .  ,.x 'flet 

Arkansas....... ^95  Nebraska...;..,........, ,  335 

Calgbrnia........ 16,377  ^yevada...: ,i:::Ji::ifin^ 

^^ru^orrrr:T...,„ '54 ^  New ttampshin;. ; : .. J ".^^^%T 

Connectjcut .'.., , ....  .355  New  Jersey. .. ,. , . ,; . . ., .74 

^**°'*-'' • ••1.39^  New  Mexico... ;....'.^v.;.:9,773 


»  V 


m 


•V 


4  ■ 
V 


k  -' 


^ 


240 


*     NUMBER  OF  INDIANS  IN  THE 


DeUware 5     Nfew  York... 7....^. ...... 819 

District  of  Columbia 5     North  CaroUna. ...........  1,330 


Florida .... ... . . , , , , ....... i8o 

Georgia 124 

Idaho. . . . ; . ........ .V, .... .163 

Illinois. ..,,... ,  i 140 

Indiana .,......,..../.....  .246 

lowa. . .  *»•» iryii riii^rrvViT •  .466 
Kansas ....,., . . ........... .S15 

Kentucky. . .  „ , , .50 

Louisiana. .  * ... » , .......... .848 

Maine. . . , : 635 


Ohio. 


'•••••••••«    ••••« 


.130 


Oregon. ......... .V. ..... . .  1,694 

Pennsylvania. ..............  184 

Rhode  Island. .77 , 

South  Carolina. .131 

Tennessee. ..,..;.. *.  .352 

Texas ...............992 

Utah. ..................... .807 

Verin<%t..... ; n 

Virginia ...85 


Maryhind 15  Washington  Territory. ....  .4,405 

Massachusetts. ......... ...  .369  West  Virginia. .-. 29 

Michigan .^. .. . . : 7,249  Wisconsin. . . .....  ........ 3,161 

Minnesota..  ^^t|.. . . :. 2,300  Wyoming.^„„ ...... . .....  .'140 

Mississippi. ..».:.....,....  1,850 

Five  civilized  tribes  of  Indians  cultivated  the  follow- 
ing number  of  acres  and  raised  the  following  crop  in 

IO8O..      ,;„.  .  V  -*"      ^      ,f 

Number  of  acres.. .  .4  .^^^,398  Tons  of  hay  cut.  ...^..V.  125,500 

Number  bushels  o||wheat.  336,424  Number  horses  owned. . .  .61,453 

Number  bushels^fscom .  2,346,042      Number  mules  owned. 5, 138 

Number  bu%l?,  o^ts  and  Number  cattle  owned ....  297!o40 

barley . ^^f .. .i».. , .124,568  Number  U  swinc; .;. . .. .400,2Sa 

Numbor^&tS  of  cotton. . . i6,8dQ  Numt^er  of  sheep. .«;»., . .34,032 

Numbefbuls.  vegeUbles. 595,000  *                     4.        ,, 

S^ie  of  the  uncivilized  Indians  brolce  27,105  acres  of 
gjtfund ;  raised  604,103  bushels  of  com ;  408,812  busheb 
wlieat,  besides  many  bushels  of  vegetables. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  wild  or  uncivilized 
Indians  owned  211,981  horses,  while  the  civilized 
Indians  owned  only  61,453. 

The  number  of  houses  occupied  by  thc^  Indians  In 
iSgo,  was  ia,5Q|. 

'         SCHOOLS.  -    ^ 

Sixt;jr  boarding  and  one  hundred  tad  ttndty  schools 


tiftiiiiWin'tM-rrhili Th"  . 


I     ii  irfillfan  iiiinii    ■..'tA^ 


-    _3j^-^    _^_ 


•  •  •    \9   •  vOXQ 

.....1,330 
130 

.-•...  1,694 

..184 

.......77^ 

.....*. 352 
.......992  , 

»•«*•'•  sOoy 
•••••••If 

.......85  ^ 

.....4,405 

•V 29 

•  «•«  .3,161 

......140 

J  follow- 
crop  in 

^wifts.soo 

...61,453 
— 5,138 

..297,040 
.  .400,282 
«i»34.o3a 

C-  :■- 

acres  of 
bushels 

ivilized 
ivilized 

lians  in 


■'r 


1 


UNITED  STATES  IN  iBSQ,  2 

I!«r3hv    .^"'""*  «»"•    A  great  demand  for  land  Tn 

r  NUMBER  OF  SIOUX. 

«p?rttf^IL''>°!5'^''"'  ^'°""'  '»  «•«  '"""t-y-    The 
wl,,,  •  '"**'*"  «on"ni»»i<>ner  say>:    "Thev  are 

located  ,q  severalty,  live  in  houses,  Veareltlien'.L« 

a~  L  h    if"  7°P'  ""''"S  "*«  y«'  '880  will 

bushek  of  ve«tabf     .  "'"'i'  '''^*  °'  ~™'  "«•  "«««» 
also  act  ;,  7*^   t     '  *°  "chmember  of  tribte  ■  They 

S^^  whi  es     t'.'*    "'  """  '"'"*  P-^''^  regulation,  like 
tne  Whites.     The  progress  of  the  Indiarts  in  civilization     " 
^the  past  fiv^  years,  is  highly  gra^f^^p  ^Sl! 


itf^ 


f;^ 


schools 


I.  M- 


HBMHUi 


ft     ;^ 


